Unseelie Ties Read online

Course after course arrived, my stomach happier than it had been in a long time as Shaylee sighed and welcomed each bite. I let her out a little, knowing she would appreciate this more than the rest of us, feeling her settle and calm.

  Speaking of calm, I felt amazing. Things weren't nearly as bad as I thought they were. Ameline wasn't going anywhere. And she'd keep until the feast was over. I glanced at my mother and smiled.

  Sorry. Queen Aoilainn.

  She smiled back as she touched my hand.

  “All of your favorites, my dear.” Her green eyes glowed with love for me and I embraced that love, sharing mine with her. Our power mingled gently. “Oh, how I have missed you so, my daughter.”

  A mouthful of something sharp and tart lit up my mouth and made me moan in delight. Someone brushed my left arm, but when I glanced to the side, we were alone. No matter. I must have imagined it.

  But wait. Alone? That wasn't right—

  Mother's magic embraces me fully, drawing me toward her as she leans close and presses her lips to my forehead. My eyes met Bronagh's, see her watching with a nervous expression on her face, as though something is wrong and she doesn't know how to fix it.

  Say you'll stay with us forever. Mother's green eyes pull me in, showing me all the incredible things I've forgotten I love about my people, my realm. I sigh and rest my cheek against her shoulder, totally content.

  “Mother,” I whisper. “I'm so happy to be home.”

  She laughs, leans back. “But, my daughter,” she says as the song of the Sidhe tickles my mind. “You've been here all along.”

  So I have! How silly of me.

  And nothing will ever make me leave.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Two

  I sit in the open window of my room, looking out over the garden, smiling at the happy trill of the birds. I sigh and lean out to look down over the treetops to the valley.

  My heart is happy, and full. But there are moments I cannot bring myself to understand the unrest tickling my senses. My attempts to find Gwynn have left me confused and with an uncharacteristic anger rising in my soul. No one will tell me where he has gone.

  Pensive, irritable even, I pluck at the front of my silken gown and wonder where my love has gone. Why has he forsaken me? It's only when my door swings open and sweet Thalion enters, I find myself smiling again.

  “Come, my very dear,” he says, hands clasping mine, drawing me out of my chambers and into the arching hallway on the other side, “the day is far too beautiful to waste.”

  Every day is beautiful here. But he is right. No more moping. It's just not like me.

  I toss my hair over my shoulder as we run past the wall of mirrors, laughing at how delightful we look together. Thalion's happiness reaches me through our touch, his love a deep and thrumming pulse I sense easily and embrace.

  Not fully. Not yet. I still pine for Gwynn. But there will come a time, I'm sure of it, Thalion will take his place. And I am happy for the distraction now.

  He leads me down the spiral stairs, across the narrow thread bridge and to the ground, my feet light on the welcoming grass as we run toward the stable and our waiting horses. Thalion pulls me up before him instead, galloping off while I clasp my arms around his neck, breathing his scent of spring and morning glories. His pale cheek feels soft against mine and my heart swells open.

  Perhaps he is the one for me after all. Mother will be so pleased to hear it.

  His stallion, Dubhlainn spins to a halt, soft mane brushing my arm. Near the point of the river, a blanket has been spread. Small Fey flitter about, their pristine white clothing sparkling as they deposit a delightful array of foods about, scattering as Thalion leaps from the horse and hands me down into his arms.

  I sit beside him, tucked against his side as my prince—yes, he is my prince and always will be, I've decided—hand-feeds me morsels while I sigh and listen to the soft sound of his singing.

  How could my life be more wonderful?

  Something twinges inside me, a feeling of discomfort. I push it down, absorbed in the beauty of Thalion's eyes. When his lips descend to mine, I meet them with my own, breathing his breath as his kiss devours me.

  I am so happy.

  Aren't I? Shouldn't I be? I pull away from Thalion, sitting up, the stirring in my chest refusing to leave me be. Where once this lovely picnic made me smile, I now see only a mess. The day, bright and cheerful, feels dull to me, the air cold. Even the grass beneath me has a sharp edge to it I abhor suddenly.

  “My love.” Thalion reaches for me. “What ails?”

  I cannot allow him to touch me, cannot abide his gaze either. I spring to my feet, turning and taking Dubhlainn's stirrup, swinging onto the stallion. Thalion calls my name as I push the horse to turn, run away, despite his desire to return to his master.

  My magic is stronger than his will. I release him at the base of the bridge and flee for the stairs. My chest feels heavy, as though someone pushes against me, forcing my breaths in panting sobs. I stagger as I trip over the top step, almost falling.

  Except she is there to catch me.

  “My daughter,” Mother's green eyes are calm. Her stillness helps me focus as her power guides and steadies me. “Are you well? I had thought you out with Thalion.”

  “I was.” I weave on my feet, one hand against my forehead, feeling light-headed and fragile. “Mother, I fear there is something not right with me.”

  She stroked my cheek, her fingers sparking with Sidhe magic, the pressure retreating. “Not at all, my darling,” she said with a brief kiss to my cheek. “You need rest, perhaps.”

  Yes, rest. I follow her as she leads me into my chambers, out onto the low balcony, lying down on a divan, pulling me next to her. With my head cradled on her shoulder, her magic holding me gently, I feel myself finally recovering from the odd malaise.

  I wake alone, still on the divan, Mother gone. Feeling much better, I retreat inside to change for supper. But nothing in my selection is suitable. I endure a rush of disgust for everything offered to me by my servants, send them scurrying with angry words and snaps of magic.

  Each and every gown I shred with power and send fluttering to the floor. Ugly. All of it, ugly. And a lie.

  What lie? I draw a breath against the tightness holding me captive, heart pounding as my gaze rises and I meet a pair of blue eyes in my mirror.

  I leap with terror at the sight of the furious young woman reflected over my shoulder. A human! Here? I spin, fear pounding away at my soul. No human can be here.

  But no. The room is empty. I am alone, after all.

  Why did she seem so familiar?

  Mother is unhappy with me at dinner, Thalion sullen, but I do not care. Refuse to talk. Who was that girl? And from where do I know her? I pick at my food before rising to retreat.

  “You haven't finished.” Mother reaches for my hand, but I snatch mine away before she can touch me.

  “Just leave me alone, won't you?” I run from her, from Thalion as he calls my name, fleeing yet again to my quarters, sending my weeping servants away. I collapse on my bed and sob.

  A soft step, a warm hand on my back and Bronagh settles next to me. Her clear green eyes are full of warmth, her touch the same I remember from my childhood. My mother's oldest adviser and my dear friend rubs soft circles between my shoulder blades to soothe me.

  “I'm ill,” I whisper.

  “You're not,” she answers. “Sleep. And remember there is more to you than she lets you feel.”

  Bronagh leaves me alone to ponder her words, to think on the life of illusions Mother has spun for us here.

  This is wrong. My home, my life. Everything is the way it should be and yet, I can't help but know, in my deepest soul, it is all a terrible lie.

  Still weeping, I fall into a troubled slumber.

  Darkness engulfs me. Glowing amber eyes emerge from the black, curving horns shining in demon fire as the red-skinned creature lunges forward, snarling my name. I flee from her, fu
rther into the shadows, only to feel the chill of the grave slide over my skin. I huddle, weeping, as a shining white vampire, her eyes flaring with spirit magic, thunders her fury.

  I barely escape her, following the thread of rainbow magic, riding it like a river, desperate to escape. But there is no escape. I see her then, the young woman, the human, her face a mask of rage. Multi-hued magic flashes around her as she rises above me, a giant. The vampire and demon join her, becoming her while the river of power pins me to the ground.

  I try to fight back, but she is so strong. And so familiar. Part of me wants to welcome her, but I am afraid.

  Until she touches me. And my heart opens again.

  “Syd,” I whisper.

  No longer afraid.

  Furious.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Shaylee wasn't the only one feeling a tad bit pissed off. I sat up in her bed, my hands shaking, my demon roaring so loudly I had to yell at her to make her stop so I could focus.

  Syd. Shaylee's mental voice vibrated with a mix of anger and regret. Oh, Syd. I'm so sorry.

  Last time you say that, I sent back, trying not to focus my rage on her. Right?

  Yes. She hissed, essence crackling with earth magic. She dared to manipulate and coerce me. Her own daughter. Was she really that naive? Well, not anymore. I'd take angry Shaylee over sad and pining Shaylee any day.

  Time to kick some Sidhe queen ass. But as I leaped from the bed, motion near the balcony caught my attention. I pulled my power around me, all of it, reveling at the feeling of being free again, my demon and vampire joining the family magic in pushing the limits just as three figures slid into my room.

  I almost cried out at the sight of two of them. Wasn’t that Liam? Standing next to me? But it wasn’t a mirror, was it, and I was Shaylee here in the realm. But there they were, only a few feet away...

  Wait, no. Not Liam. My heart almost leaped from my chest. Liam was Ameline. But before I could lash at him/her with magic, I felt his touch on my mind.

  Not my hated enemy at all. The soft mind reaching for mine belonged to Liam’s grandfather, Fergus.

  And the mirror image of me? Gram. Right. I shivered at the sight of them together, a very private and very vain part of me wondering if Liam and I looked that fantastic as a couple.

  Sheesh, Syd. Way to focus on the important things.

  The third figure gripped the skirt of her deep green gown and locked gazes with me.

  “Syd?” Gram took a step closer, a frown on our face, shifting my attention.

  I tossed aside Shaylee's long hair with a grunt of temper. “Yeah,” I said. “Present and accounted for.”

  Gram let out a sigh of relief while Fergus bowed to me with a grin so sweet my heart ached for Liam all over again. “Nice to see you again, Miss Hayle,” he said in his grandson's voice.

  “Hey, Fergus.” It was hard not to run to him and hug him, just to remind me why I was here. Or part of the reason. I let my eyes settle on Bronagh again before I bobbed a nod to her. “You three here to rescue me or something?”

  Gram's grin made her Fey influenced face look much more human. “Something like that,” she said. “Leave it to you not to need us.”

  Shaylee's anger settled as she flinched. “We've straightened things out internally,” I said. “But there are a few external matters I still have to deal with.”

  Gram nodded quickly while Fergus's smile fell to a sad frown.

  “Please,” he said. “Be cautious.”

  “Not that I've been asked,” Bronagh said in a soft voice of velvet, “but I agree with Fergus. Perhaps if you let me speak to the Queen on your behalf? Shaylee can assure you I only have your best interests in mind.”

  I believed her. “You're part of the reason I woke up, aren't you?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I offered some encouragement,” she said. “I adore my queen, but she isn't thinking clearly. There are times we must think for her.”

  Okay then. I was going to get along with Bronagh after all.

  Fergus reached for my hand, his concern clear on his earnest face. “Now that you've broken free of the queen's coercion, she will stop at nothing to keep you here. Even if it means imprisoning you.”

  A spatter of colored sparks fell from my hands as my anger surged. “She can try.” It took a moment to pull myself back under control. “I couldn’t care less about what she wants,” I said. “Or changing her mind for that matter.” Bronagh nodded sadly. “More importantly, how much time have we lost?”

  Fergus shrugged. “What you think of as time moves differently here,” he said. “Perhaps a few hours have passed on the other side of the Gate.”

  That made me feel a little better. Until I tensed, remembering I hadn't come here alone. “Where's Charlotte?” Nice of me to think of the weregirl finally.

  “I can lead you to her.” Bronagh held out her hand. “But we have to move quickly. It won't be long before the queen realizes you've slipped her power.”

  Hurry was my middle name.

  I followed the Fey adviser out onto the balcony and down the half-hidden staircase I'd missed earlier, Gram and Fergus close behind. Of course, Shaylee knew it was there. Hadn't thought it important enough to focus on.

  I had a lot to teach her about watching her own back. And hopefully, we had the time for her to learn.

  Night only came to the Sidhe realm when the queen thought it necessary, so we found ourselves trying to mingle with the few other Seelie we encountered. Most of them simply bowed to me and Bronagh and didn't ask questions, so we moved along quite quickly. I caught the smell of dogs and kennels moments before Bronagh led us from the white stone path and behind a copse of trees.

  My gut twisted at the sight. A patch of bare earth housed a stake, a thick post of seasoned wood. A glittering silver spike pinned a length of shining chain to the stake, ending in a collar around the golden wolf's neck.

  That wasn't the worst part, not by a long shot. They'd chained and collared my bodywere. She lay panting on her side, huge rents dug in the ground beneath her, slashing cuts marring her beautiful coat, blood running down her sides to pool in the earth. Charlotte still clawed at the ground, trying to pull herself forward while she choked on the tight collar, coughing as she fought.

  Three Sidhe stood around her, all with sparkling golden whips, dripping blood, faces cold and blank.

  Not for long.

  If they saw me coming, they had barely a moment to register my presence as my power lashed out and drove the three face-first into the ground. A snap of air power wrapped the whips around their necks and pulled tight, choking them in turn, as I stomped my way across the dirt and to Charlotte's side.

  Gram's growl of fury and surge of magic took over from me as I focused on the fallen weregirl. Knowing my grandmother would come up with a suitable punishment for the three attackers, I let my magic go, sliding it around Charlotte and into her damaged body.

  So much pain. Broken ribs, shattered leg bones, a powdered vertebra. Tears welled in my eyes, not Shaylee's this time, as I threaded through Charlotte’s body with spirit magic and began to reverse the damage. My Sidhe princess sobbed in my head, hugging herself while I worked. I let my demon and vampire comfort her, unable to bring myself to forgive Shaylee for allowing this to happen to Charlotte.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Charlotte's yellow wolf eyes never left mine, her body recovering quickly. I slicked the blood from her coat with a surge of fire magic, helping her rise, feeding her energy until she shook herself, a low growl of fury making her tremble.

  I turned to find Gram and Fergus tying up the now-unconscious Sidhe with their own whips, Bronagh standing to one side, eyes averted as though unwilling to be part of the assault. I couldn't blame her when I thought about it. These were her people. And yet, they'd hurt Charlotte thanks to Bronagh's queen.

  Messy, my mixed emotions. Very messy.

  Gram came forward to hug Charlotte before meeting
my gaze.

  “They won't wake,” she said. “And when they do, it will be to so much pain they'll wish they hadn't.”

  Worked for me. “Galleytrot?”

  Fergus's nervousness told me the big hound was in as much trouble as Charlotte, if not more.

  “He is heavily guarded,” Bronagh said.

  “So?” I let my power flood around me. I'd take them all on if I had to.

  The advisor nodded without further argument. “This way.”

  Not far, it turned out. I could feel the black dog as soon as we rejoined the path and turned off into another clearing. But he felt strange, distant and as I approached the dozen or so Sidhe in the same shining metal armor Quaid wore—one more person to worry about— and I felt my fury build to murderous.

  “Where is he?” It was hard to keep a calm face while I shook from rage, but I did a half-decent job. Partly because Shaylee finally stepped up and did her Sidhe thing.

  “Your Highness.” One of the guards bowed as his eyes flickered to Bronagh. “Advisor.”

  “Oengus,” Shaylee said through me while Bronagh stayed silent. “My lord. Where is the hound?”

  He pointed to a small hole in the ground, a black scar in the dirt. “Where your mother sent him, Your Highness,” he said.

  “Bring him to the surface.” I allowed Shaylee her anger, let her deal with them. But only after she whispered, Please, I must make this right.

  The one she'd named Oengus exchanged a look with another guard. He's nervous, she sent to me.

  “Now, my lord,” she said.

  “I can't do that without Her Majesty’s order.” A spine? How original. Or maybe he was just more afraid of the queen, which made sense.

  He was about to find out he was scared of the wrong Sidhe.

  Shaylee's magic slammed into his chest without warning, the front plate of his armor crumpling as he went down in a heap. “I said,” she leaned us forward and spoke with a light, gentle voice, “bring him up.”