FORTY-TWO
SAGE
I listen to the splashing of the water and watch it swirl in small eddies in front of me, lost in a sudden rush of anxiety. As soon as Aelia mentioned that Kieran hasn’t been seen since the party, my gut sank. A very real fear for him bubbled up, and I have no idea what to do with it.
How can I feel any sort of worry for Kieran?
“You good?” Faelan says.
I turn toward his voice. He’s treading water two feet away, hair slicked back. Sunlight bounces off the water, glittering around him, shimmering in his green eyes, the water thickening his lashes.
This is the guy I want. Not Kieran. I should be glad for the dark prince to disappear.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, absently. “It’s all good.”
He squints at me like he’s trying to figure me out. “You sure?” he says. “I could get you something to eat—”
“No,” I say quickly, not wanting him to worry about me. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
I step out of the pool and walk over to grab one of the towels folded on the chair.
“I know something’s wrong, Sage,” he says.
I don’t turn around. “I’m fine. Just let it go, Faelan.” I dry my face, but when I hear him getting out of the water, I add, “I’m going to try and get some sleep,” and then I walk away, heading for the cottage.
I open the door and go inside, nearly colliding with Niamh. I’d totally forgotten she was in here. She turns, dropping the black velvet bag in surprise. She raises her hand up in front of me, like she’s trying to show me something. And then she goes perfectly still.
Her skin becomes waxy and pale.
Blood runs from her nose in a slow, thin drip.
Crimson pools in her large eyes.
She moans like she’s about to cry, and red tears spill down her cheeks.
I gape at her, not sure what I’m seeing.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice turning into gurgles. “I just wanted to try it on.” Then she coughs.
Blood splatters my face and I stumble back, a cry of horror bursting from my lungs as she collapses.
Faelan rushes in behind me. “What happened?” He takes me by the arms, looking me over frantically. “You’re bleeding.”
I shake my head and point down at Niamh, not able to form the words. She’s writhing on the floor, choking, drowning, blood bubbling from her mouth in a frothy pink mess.
“Holy Danu,” he says, kneeling at her side as she goes still again.
In seconds the blood is everywhere, coating her face, her neck, pooling under her. He tries to lift her head, but it’s like she’s melting, her body crumpling in on itself.
I sob, covering my mouth, and fall to my knees. I squeeze my eyes shut. My stomach rises. My chest throbs. I want to scream until I go deaf so I don’t have to hear the gurgling.
More voices enter the room—James’s and Aelia’s. Someone’s shouting, and the smell of green grass fills the air. Nothing makes sense. When silence falls, I dare to open my eyes again.
Aelia, James, and Faelan are all kneeling around Niamh’s body. Or what’s left of it. Part of her skull is caved in, and her right hand and part of her right arm have melted into a gooey liquid. There are dark purple veins showing through what’s left of her skin, and her eyes are completely gone.
I keep my hands over my mouth, but I can’t hold in the groan that spills out. How can this be real?
“What was she thinking?” Aelia shakes her head, tears filling her eyes. James reaches out for something, but she smacks his hand hard, shouting, “Don’t touch it!”
“The ring’s poisoned,” Faelan says. He glances at me. “It was meant for Sage.”
“Goddess below,” Aelia breathes, her voice shaking. “Oh, Niamh. You stupid, stupid pixie.”
“What . . . what happened?” I choke out.
Aelia wipes the tears from her cheek. “She must’ve opened your tribute from the House of Morrígan.” She motions to something in the pool of liquid that was Niamh’s hand and arm. “She put it on.”
A ring sits where Niamh’s hand was. A ring with a large ruby. The stone catches the light, glinting red over the walls, like the cottage is bleeding too.
I stare at it, confused. “I don’t understand, why . . . how could a ring do this?” Niamh is dead. She’s in my living room and she’s melted, dead.
Faelan sits back, rubbing his forehead. “It looks like Sagitta Anathema.” Fear is thick in his voice, and it sets my pulse racing. “It’s poison. Undetectable and very effective.” He stands quickly and walks away, heading for the kitchen. “Kieran is an evil bastard, but I had no idea he’d go this far.” He pulls a pair of tongs from a drawer and comes back, kneels down, and uses them to pick up the ring.
“I don’t get it,” Aelia says. “He wants Sage for his House, doesn’t he?”
“Did Kieran do this?” It was meant for me . . . I was the one who was supposed to put on that ring. I should be lying there, not Niamh.
Faelan picks up the discarded bag from beside Niamh’s body and drops the ring back inside. “We can’t know for sure, but the Cast could decide to claim the property. Since it happened at the master’s personal home and it was an attack against his guest.”
“Shit,” Aelia says, standing in a rush. She waves her hand at the air, and a lamp flies across the room, crashing into the far wall. “Shitshitshit!”
Faelan ignores her and turns to James. “I need you to call my underground contact.” He looks down at the body again. “We need to get this cleaned up fast. No one outside this room, besides Marius, can hear about it. Niamh doesn’t have family, so it’ll be a while until anyone realizes she’s missing, and by then Sage’s Emergence will be over.”
My gut twists, the reality, the horror of the world I’m becoming a part of hitting me all over again.
“We can’t hide this,” Aelia says, sounding nervous now. “We need to at least tell the Cast. If this was Kieran, he should be held accountable.”
“Are you kidding me?” Faelan says, his words dripping with bitterness. “The Cast couldn’t give a shit about the life of this pixie. You were at that party; you know what they planned to do, and those were humans. Where is the Cast’s justice for that? They’ve done nothing, not even a slap on the wrist. They’re only worried about the Balance. Princess Mara has them in her pocket. And Sage is too monumental to delay the Emergence with an inquiry. They’ll just take away your father’s leadership in the House instead, pretending to do their job, saying he’s weak.”
“Why would Kieran want to kill me?” I ask, unable to accept it.
“The poison wouldn’t have killed you,” Faelan says. “Niamh is an underling, so it was . . . detrimental to her. It wouldn’t have done this to you, a demi. It would’ve poisoned your blood and made you sick for a very long time. You’d likely have wished you were dead, but you’d have been plunged into a comatose state, so you wouldn’t have been able to say a thing about it.” He shakes his head. “But I don’t get why Kieran would do this.”
“I need to call my dad,” Aelia says, resignation threading through her voice now.
“I can do it, Lia,” Faelan says gently.
She shakes her head. “No, I want to tell him.”
James stands and wanders over to the kitchen with Aelia, like he wants to stay close to her. He taps on his own phone, puts it to his ear, then reaches out and rubs her back. She leans into him a little. I look away, feeling like I’m intruding.
My eyes skip back to Niamh’s body.
Pain spikes my throat. I rise to my feet and head for the door, unable to look at the death anymore. I need air.
The sunlight hits me, but I still feel the image of her, of poor Niamh, sticking to my skin. Over and over, I see her crying bloody tears, saying she’s sorry.
My throat closes, and I gasp for breath. I have her blood on me. I need to get clean. I need to wash my mind of the vision of horror flashing in my head.
I stumble toward the pool and splash into the water, tears welling up. The water closes over my head, and I swim for the deep end, my belly scraping the bottom. I rub my hands on my face to get the blood off, and scream and scream and scream until I feel like I’ve pushed every ounce of shock and horror from my bones.
Until all that’s left behind is an empty vessel.
I don’t want to rise to the surface again. I want to stay here in the silent nothingness and not have to face this madness.
But in the end, when I can’t hold my breath anymore, I float up. I emerge and see Faelan standing in the water near the steps. He watches as I make my way toward him. His concern is obvious, the tension making his shoulders flex.
A new sort of madness fills me when my eyes meet his. I find myself propelled, needing to feel something else in my skin. Needing to feel anything but this darkness, this confusion.
He grips the edge of the pool as I come up to him, but he doesn’t move away.
So I reach out. I touch him, the water from my fingers dripping down his bare chest.
I can’t say out loud what I’m thinking, that I need him to touch me back, that I want him to kiss me again like he did that night by the fountain. This storm inside won’t let me speak. But it’s like he hears me, anyway. He moves to take hold of me, to pull me closer into a hug. His arms wrap around me, his hand gripping the back of my neck, his chin resting on the top of my head.
I press myself against his chest, feeling his warmth. I plead with this thing in me not to hurt him or take from him. Because I need this. I need to feel him.
After several heartbeats, he pulls back a little, tipping my chin so our eyes meet. His thumb slides back and forth over my jaw, his brow pinching like he’s in pain.
“Am I hurting you?” I whisper.
He shakes his head slowly, his hair falling in his eyes.
I reach out and brush at a dark strand, then trail my fingers to his jaw, his neck, and down across his clavicle, his skin soft against mine. I let myself look at him, soaking in his beauty. Wondering about the scar above his eye. Studying the perfect shape of his mouth. Then I rise up on my toes.
And touch my lips to his.
He breathes me in. His arms wrap tighter around me, strong and unyielding. I twist my fingers in his hair, falling into him until he’s leaning against the edge of the pool. Everything in me tingles and buzzes with his body so close, his hands sliding down my bare back, gripping my hips, pulling me closer. And the storm of confusion inside me calms, a new whirl of emotion rising as he presses into me, his breath becoming mine. I cling to him and kiss him and taste him, blocking out the whole world for as long as I can, getting lost in the urgency, in the frantic touch.
Memories mingle, twisting in my mind, the water growing cold, Faelan becoming the king, me becoming Lily, and then shifting back again. I’m surrounded by water, clutching at Faelan’s damp body, but then I’m surrounded by cold stone, wrapped in the king’s arms.
I’m desperate and hungry, and I don’t want to pull away anymore. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him.
I’m so lost that the warmth growing in my skin doesn’t register. Even as the familiar smell of Faelan’s green energy fills my head, and the taste of mint trickles into my throat.
The buzz of it all trails around me, through me, the heat blossoming in my chest.
And I realize where I am, and that I’m feeding from him. The one Sage cares about. Faelan.
Panic falls over me in a rush.
I pull away, breathless. “Stop,” I hiss at myself.
I watch as steam rises from his arms, his face. A rush of relief fills me when I don’t see any burns.
“I think I was feeding,” I say, feeling ill.
He shakes his head. “I’m all right. The torque held most of it back.”
I move to the steps and slowly sit, cold fear creeping through me. “I hate this.” What’s happening to me? I was completely lost. I’m going crazy.
“It’s okay, Sage.” He sinks down to sit beside me.
I shake my head. No. No, it’s not.