THIRTY-EIGHT
SAGE
My mind races back and forth, back and forth, trying to figure out what happened when Aelia was doing that spell. As soon as she started speaking in the strange language, I couldn’t get out of that circle fast enough.
Okay, if I’m being honest with myself, from the second Marius handed me the scroll, I felt odd about the spell. Still, it was the right thing, the safest thing. And I wanted to be free of it.
I did.
But now . . . out of nowhere . . . I’m unsure about pushing these memories away. I think something shifted inside me last night when I held that glass owl. I want to understand what it is.
Which terrifies me. Because what if Faelan’s right? What if I really am being tricked?
We still don’t know who put these memories inside me, or why. What if it was Kieran? What if it’s supposed to make me choose something that could destroy me?
That doesn’t feel true, though.
All I have to go on right now is my gut. And for the first time in my life, I don’t want to run away. To me, that means something. And if I’m going to chase this down, I just need to go for it. No more hiding. From now on, I walk into the fire—literally—I don’t back away from it.
Which means that, as much as it pains me, I need to go to that dumb party of Kieran’s tonight. If I’m not going to leave this place, then I need to find out where I belong.
I leave my cottage and find Aelia in her room. I plop down on her bed, hug one of her narcissistic pillows, and ask if she can help me find something to wear. You’d think I asked her to be my wedding planner for my marriage to Channing Tatum or something, with all the clapping and squealing that bursts forth.
She drags me into her closet and starts flinging dresses around. “You can’t fall back on your baggy-shirt-grunge-girl theme tonight,” she says. “This is serious if you want to make Kieran sweat.”
“I don’t want to make Kieran do anything,” I say. Except maybe leave me alone.
“Oh, come on, the game is half the fun.” She pulls out a dress made of nothing and, fortunately, tosses it aside. “You make him think he has a chance so that when you crush him and choose the House of Brighid, it’s that much more yummy.”
“I don’t play games, Aelia. I just want to learn as much as I can about this world.”
“Oh, honey.” She clucks her tongue. “Lesson one: this world is all about the games.”
No kidding. I’m not up for it yet, though. “Well, for tonight I’m only going to observe the lunacy.”
She snorts out a laugh. “You know this party is for you, right?”
“What?”
“Kieran is throwing this little soiree for you, girl.” She tosses a dress at me and I catch it.
I don’t bother to see what it looks like. I’m now second-guessing everything, my determination flittering away. “No, no, no.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” She tosses shoes at my feet: bright red heels.
I think I’m going to throw up. “Oh, God.”
“You better get used to it. You’re a hot commodity.”
I groan.
“Don’t worry, you’re going to kill it.” She goes to a drawer and pulls out a long strand of glittering diamonds. “They won’t know what hit ’em.”
Within an hour, the three of us are in the back of a limo. Faelan barely looks at me as we make our way to Kieran’s house in the hills. Apparently, this is just one of his California houses.
Faelan’s expression darkens as Aelia goes on about how many properties Kieran and his sister own all over the world. This morning, Faelan acted like he wanted me to come to this thing, but I can tell he’s still angry about this afternoon—angry about anything to do with Kieran. And I don’t blame him. I don’t care how many houses Kieran has, he’s still . . . Kieran.
When we arrive, a valet opens the limo door. I try to get Faelan’s attention before we go inside, but Aelia hooks her arm in mine and pulls me away, heading for the sprawling house. Well, more like mansion.
It’s absolutely stunning. Tall lamps light the yard, casting flickering shadows as the sun disappears into the hills behind us. A cobblestone walkway weaves through mossy ground cover, leading to the entrance, all framed with a rose-covered trellis.
The house itself is a stone beast with ivy climbing up the face and sleeping morning glories trailing along the edges. The only hints that we didn’t step from the limo into the nineteenth century are the two large bouncers flanking the huge oak door.
Faelan walks behind us, silent, as Aelia talks my ear off about how the house was brought here from France and had been owned by an English duke or something.
The bouncer on the left opens the door as the one on the right touches his earpiece and says, “Princess Sage has arrived,” like he’s Secret Service. I want to laugh, it’s so cheesy. Are they going to give me a code name next, like the Albatross?
But the laughter dies in my throat as we walk inside. The soaring ceiling is vaulted three floors above us; I can see people milling about on the landing of the next floor. A wide staircase winds up and splits in two directions. The only light is coming from thousands of candles along the floor, lined up to create a pathway. Huge tapestries hang on the gray stone walls. They’re woven in bright colors, images of peaceful pastoral scenes, bloody battles, and entwined lovers.
Aelia walks ahead, but I pause, my eyes catching a tapestry with a woman resting in a forest. She’s sitting beside a river, and a smaller figure that looks like a water faerie is perched on a rock, weaving yellow flowers into the woman’s curly auburn hair.
“She’s so lovely,” I say to Faelan, who stands beside me.
“That’s your sister, Queen Lily.”
My stomach flutters. My sister . . . I look closer, studying her features, the high cheekbones, the large golden eyes, how her hand rests delicately on her cheek. “She looks peaceful.” That’s not how I recall her feeling in any of my dreams, but maybe there was a time when she was.
“It’s from a story,” Faelan says, “‘The River Queen,’ about a young woman who fell in love with a water wysp only to have it kill her, drowning her in her own tears. It’s silly, really. And an insult to Queen Lily’s legacy to be pictured in it.” He sounds sad.
I turn to him, about to ask him if he’s going to be all right, but his features shift to anger as he spots someone over my shoulder and a voice comes from behind me.
“Welcome, my love.”
A chill works up my spine.
Kieran.
He moves to stand in front of me, his gaze scraping over me in a way that has heat climbing my neck and cheeks. “I’m breathless,” he says. “You are a sight.” And without turning to look at Faelan, he directs his next words to him. “She’s going to be the death of us both, isn’t she, bastard? This one is true fire in the flesh. It’s too bad you’ll never taste her.”
My pulse skips at his insinuation.
“Fuck right off, prick,” Faelan growls.
Kieran just laughs softly. Deadly. “Poor castoff. You have certainly gotten yourself in trouble this time, haven’t you? You’re completely taken.”
Faelan steps up to loom over him.
They size each other up, and the more Kieran stares at Faelan, the harder his features become.
I wave a hand between them. “Hey, I’m right here.”
Kieran turns to me, and I step back at the stone in his eyes. “He apparently feels something more for you than a simple protector bond. Does he have reason to?”
“What?” I ask, trying to play dumb. “What do you mean?”
“His spirit is tuned to yours,” Kieran says as he looks me over. “And yours to his.”
I release a nervous laugh, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m pretty sure it will be really bad if he thinks there’s something between Faelan and me. So I lie. “The guy can’t stand me. And I’m not exactly a fan of his either. He’s a huge downer.” I shrug. “He thinks I’m gonna go bonkers and become some kind of killer.”
Kieran glances at Faelan, who’s frowning at me, his jaw working.
“But you know, it’s a party, so . . .” I wave my hand aimlessly at the crowd upstairs. “Have fun measuring dicks, boys.” I step back, then I turn and say over my shoulder, trying to sound unaffected, “I’m off to find the bar.” As I walk away, I focus on breathing, praying it’s not obvious that every inch of me is shaking.
I wander aimlessly through the crowd for a while and am relieved when no one seems to know or care who I am. I get a few second glances from a group of men around a smoky pool table, but I walk past them and head into a long hall where the milling people thin out. The shadows grow and the light dims as I work my way along. The people I see are either making out or talking on their phones, not paying attention to me.
I was supposed to be getting to know this place, this world, but here I am hiding like my old self. Maybe I’m not ready for this. After that moment downstairs, I realize I’ve got no clue how to keep from falling into a trap—and everything’s a trap.
I find a door at the far end and knock, going halfway in when there’s no answer. It takes me a second to realize I’m not alone in the room; the sound of rustling makes me freeze. It’s too dark to see, though.
“Hello?” I say, backing out. Could Kieran have made it past me when I wasn’t looking?
I put my hand on the handle and push the door open more.
Light from the hall casts into the room, falling on something on the far side, in the corner.
A bird.
I spot the light switch and flick it. A dim glow comes from a chandelier above.
It’s a black bird. A raven, perched on a stack of books.
I step into the room again and study the creature. As I look around, I realize I’m in a library.
Oh wow. It’s huge, two stories high, bookshelves floor to ceiling, full to the brim.
The raven squawks.
I walk into the center of the room. As I get closer to the bird, I realize it’s huge, almost unnaturally so. There’s an odd patch of silver feathers on the right side of its neck. It tips its head and eyes me sideways, like it’s making sure I’m allowed to be in here, then it hops closer and opens its shiny beak, releasing a low caw. It keeps staring at me as if it has something to say, and all I can do is stare back and wonder if it’s really just a bird. In this place, who can tell?
“What a party, huh?” I say.
It tips its head again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it’s keying in on my boobs, but that’s just—
A flash of yellow light reflects on the wall behind the raven, and I realize it’s a reflection from my medallion. It must’ve caught the bird’s eye.
The creature screeches again, then flies up and perches on the edge of a higher shelf. The sound of wings continues, though, and I swear I smell roses . . . smell ice . . .
The ground tilts, tingles washing over me—
“You shouldn’t be in here,” a clipped female voice says from behind me.
I spin and see Princess Mara standing in the doorway. She’s glaring at me like she’s completely offended that I’m in this library with her pet bird instead of out mingling.
She glances up at the raven. I could swear fear flashes across her features for a second. “This room stays locked. How did you even get in?”
I shake my head and point at the door. “I knocked,” I say stupidly.
She considers me for a second and then looks back at the bird. “This isn’t a safe place for a newblood princess.”
It’s a library.
“You need to go back to your party,” she adds.
I almost say, “Yes, ma’am,” like I’ve been scolded by a teacher for not having a hall pass. Instead, I just nod and back out of the room. What was I thinking wandering around this place alone? The door slams in my face, even though Princess Mara’s hands stay clenched at her sides.
It’s official: everyone’s having fun at my party except me. Well, or Faelan. I’m pretty sure that wherever the guy is, he’s miserable too.
I find Aelia and her coven laughing and cooing in a room full of young men. One of the girls, Victoria, is doing a magic trick, floating playing cards around her hips. Each time a card flies out, one of the guys catches it. If it’s hearts, she kisses them. Long, slobbery kisses. I gag and walk away after the third guy. I’m pretty sure she was flicking the kissing cards on purpose, like a rigged Spin the Bottle.
I wander outside and wish I could just drive myself home. As I settle on a patio chair, a shadow falls over me. I know right away that it’s Faelan.
“Where’ve you been?” I ask.
“Following you,” he says. “Watching Kieran.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
“You’re miserable.”
“I am.” I glance up at him. “Your world is sorta boring if you’re not into drinking countless cocktails, gossiping, or playing tonsil hockey with strangers.”
He sits across from me, ignoring my snark. “Did you notice that Kieran’s been avoiding you?”
I did wonder why the dark prince hadn’t accosted me again. I just shrug.
He rests his elbows on his knees. “I spotted him going into the room you came out of, almost the second you left. He’s still in there.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and it falls over his left eye. “He’s up to something.”
“And? What am I supposed to do about it?”
“Do you feel anything . . . odd? Like, in your mind or spirit?”
“What? No—what are you talking about? Be more specific.”
“At first I thought he’d brought you here to show off for you, but when he came over to us and acted so . . . un-Kieran . . .”
“He was a prick, how is that un-Kieran?”
He lowers his voice. “He was jealous. Kieran has everything, he needs nothing. And he never shows weakness.”
I frown at him, not sure where he’s going with this.
“I have a hunch he may have brought you here for a different reason. Like a spell.”