“Yes, but…this seems, I don’t know, like it might end badly…for us.”
Pestale laughed, “Oh it will end badly, but not for us. We have been misused and abused from the moment we were created. We were never given what we needed to be what he wanted and then discarded because we weren’t what he wanted. Now, it is our turn to do the discarding. We will rule this world and have everything, power, magic, might.”
“Very well, Pestale, you know I have always followed your lead,” Hordly sighed heavily.
“So you have, and I have always taken care of you.” he took a step toward his brother and put a hand on his shoulder, “Now Hordly, now we wait until our father discovers she has not returned to him.”
“Then what?”
“Then what? He will come looking for her here.”
“You know, Pestale; I have never been able to lie to him. He sees through me, he knows what I am, he loathes me,” Hordly said hopelessly.
“You don’t have to face him. I will do that. He will come here when he notices that she has not returned to him in a timely fashion. I will be there to greet him and give him the news. He and Crystal are bonded, and I expect he will miss their mind link very shortly. He will come here and accuse us of villainy.” Pestale said this on a laugh which grew on itself and bounced off the walls, echoing and Hordly stepped away from his brother, and displayed a face full of dread.
* * *
As Frankie was a Daoine Fae and linked to nature in many ways she centered all her thoughts on earth, wind and fire.
The healing powers that were a part of all Fae make-up began working in an effort to repair the damage the poison in her system had produced. She could feel those healing powers straining beneath the effort.
During the process, everything hurt, but Frankie gritted her teeth and tried to focus on the situation at hand. Jazz had come looking for her and was now unconscious and as shackled as she was.
Jazz had been a Fios all her life, but had only been Fae for six years. Her system would not repair itself quite so easily. The thought that Jazz could die drove her into a frenzy to get loose.
She had to concentrate. She had to find a way of breaking her chains. Whisper Dust, the words bounced into her thoughts and she looked at Crystal—Crystal who was not moving, who had not moved in hours. Yet, Frankie was certain that the words Whisper Dust were coming from her. What did it mean?
Frankie was frantic.
An answer to their problem seemed to lie with this thing called Whisper Dust, but she had never heard of it before. They were locked and shackled in a world of iron and hurt. Where was this Whisper Dust and how could she get her hands on it? What did it look like? What was Crystal trying to tell her?
“Crystal, I know ye are trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what it is. Can ye not give me an idea, what it is—this Whisper Dust ye keep telling me?”
Crystal couldn’t move, and she didn’t, but her lashes flickered ever so slightly and Frankie felt a moment of hope and repeated, “Crystal. I need to know how to get this Dust ye keep telling me about. Do ye hear me, Crystal?”
From the Dark King’s conso
rt’s mind into Frankie’s one word only one word, ring.
Frankie said the word out loud as though trying it on for size, looking for a meaning, “Ring?”
And then she saw the large gold ring on Crystal’s delicate finger. It was the sort of ring that opened. It was the sort of ring that could hold a secret…or the Whisper Dust, Crystal had repeated over and over.
Frankie shoved all the hurting aside and groaned with the pain it caused her to stand on her two feet. She yanked at the shackles, she tried to use whatever magic she had left to dislodge the Golden Wiele that tied her to the shackles imbedded in the iron with iron, but nothing happened. She was immune to iron but not to the Golden Netting or the poison it had been painted with.
She slumped, her body racked with pain. She tried sliding as close to Crystal as she could—just out of reach, and with frustration and hurting Frankie screamed as loud as she could!
* * *
Darmon padded down the stairs, still invisible, still in wolf form. He was of course, unaffected by iron, but he did not possess Fae power. He could not see through walls, and physically had to check the various chambers, and found all of them locked.
He sniffed at each one and discovered each one empty, until he came to a cell he knew was lined with iron. He could smell it, and he knew that Graely must be inside because he could smell him as well.
He began to whimper because Graely made no sound. Was he too late? Had Graely died? No, it couldn’t be, because this one good Dark Prince was their last hope.
He called to his pack a silent howl that only they could hear, and knew that his alpha parents would be waiting for him, waiting and ready to do what they could.
What Darmon didn’t know was that Graely was in a world of dark where death was in fact near, too near.