Aisling.

Niall flung the blanket off. His body was drenched. At first he thought the rain had moved across the room and was now soaking his new bed, but as he wiped a hand across his forehead, he realized he was, in fact, bathed in sweat.

He’d been dreaming, but he couldn’t remember what about. That disturbed him. Fae always remembered their dreams. Always. That was why there was a whole sect dedicated to deciphering them. That’s why whole wars had been waged over the memories of dreams.

The dream had been unsettling, he remembered that much. He’d woken up in a terrible fear that Aisling was somehow in danger, not in the dream, but right here, in her room.

In her room.

He hadn’t seen her all day, not since she’d run out of the laundry. At first he’d been angry, and disappointed. He felt sure that stripping down would have sent her over the edge, made her forget that they were sworn enemies just long enough so he could enact his wildest fantasies, so he could get her out from under his skin. But as quick as the anger came, it was replaced by another sensation – worry.

He was worried about her. The fact that she was somewhere in the house, feeling sad, because of what he’d said made him feel all … odd, like he’d misplaced something important. He’d paced around the house all afternoon, moving listlessly between the rooms, unable to sit still or focus on a task. Aisling didn’t show herself all day, but when he finally went to bed, he’d heard her moving around in her room.

And now his body crawled with the sensation that something was wrong, that somehow, Aisling was in danger. All his attempts to remind himself that it was only a dream didn’t fill him with any more confidence, especially not in this house, especially not with the rasping voices whispering his name from the other side of the crack.

Niall threw himself out of bed, grabbed his bow and tossed his quiver over his shoulder. He yanked out an arrow and loaded the bow, then darted into the hallway, his fae senses on high alert. He scanned the corridor, searching for something that shouldn’t be there.

Something brushed against his ankle. Niall leapt back, swinging his bow around to meet his foe. A pair of yellow eyes glared at him from the darkness.

“Meeerrrrwww.”

“Oh, crap.” Niall slackened his grip, relief flooding him. “I nearly killed you, you daft cat.”

Widdershins fixed Niall with a withering stare, then trotted past him into his bedroom. Niall didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to know there was now a black lump sleeping in the middle of the dent left by his warm body.

Niall focused his attention on the corridor again. He stepped out of his doorway, nudging the door to the bathroom open with his toe. He swept inside. Nothing. Next was Aisling’s room.

Niall pressed his back against the wall, and pushed the door open a crack with his foot. He swung himself around, so his back was against the door. He lifted his bow, nocked an arrow, and pulled the string back against his shoulder.

Aisling lay in her bed, the sheets twisted around her body like the ornate drapery of a Renaissance painting. Her head rested on her hands, her bow-shaped lips parted slightly, and her long lashes tangled together like the limbs of lovers.

Niall nudged the door open further, and stepped into the room, swinging the bow around as he searched every corner.

Finally, the panic in his chest subsided. There was nothing wrong here. It really was just a dream.

Niall lowered his bow, and backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He moved back into his own room and set down the bow and quiver. Widdershins opened one sleepy eye, and yawned at him.

Niall’s foot brushed the suitcase. The ray.

While I’m awake …

He grabbed the ray and headed back into the corridor.

As he turned toward the staircase, he noticed he’d left Aisling’s door open a crack.

He stepped toward it, thinking to close it in case Aisling noticed in the morning that it was open. She’d lived in this house too long to not notice a little difference like that. As he grabbed the handle and pulled the door closed, he thought he saw a glint of light – a fork of lightning from the window behind him lit up the hall and a flicker on the surface of an eye, staring at him through the crack.

Niall blinked, and the image was gone. Is it Aisling? Has she woken up?

“Hello?” he whispered into the night. He received no reply.

No, I just imagined it. The door clicked shut, and he continued on down the hall, tracking the same path he’d followed many nights before this.

No matter how many times he visited the library, it never failed to fill him with wonder. All the books in Scitis were monitored by the Quaesitors, who kept a large library at the university – not a comfortable library like this one, but a sterile, minimalist lab where books were held in strong boxes. The only book he’d been allowed to read was that one on weaponry.

Niall set the ray on the desk and collapsed into the chair beside it. First, he tore a page from Aisling’s ledger book, and scribbled another note to Odiana, outlining his lack of progress. Next, he went to the shelf, searching for another title that might give him some clue about how to get the magic out of the house.

He hated himself for being here, in Aisling’s favorite place, without her. Keeping the secret didn’t bother him – lies rolled off his back like raindrops in a storm – but being in the library alone felt somehow sacrilegious, as though he were trespassing in some sacred temple.

Niall started scanning the titles. The books on the shelves were a hodgepodge of topics – archaeology, herbology, astronomy, chemistry, fairy tales, British mystery novels, paperback romance books with women in sweeping ball gowns running through fields on the covers, old ledgers and diaries of the previous owners of the manor. A card catalogue on the desk showed the library had once been organized, but now the books were all out of order.

Niall pulled out an alchemy volume he’d begun the previous night. He sank into one of the uncomfortable chairs by the window, using the flickering light of the lightning forks outside to illuminate the pages. His fae eyes saw well enough in the dark, but as his gaze shifted over the complex diagrams, his lids grew heavy.

He needed sleep, but he knew he would never sleep easy in the house until he’d done what he came to do.

He had to complete his mission. He had to find a way to save his brother.