“Roark, please. Help me this time.”
I’m back in that damn room, eye to eye with him. The chains suspend his arms above his head. His chest is a slick of blood, delicate knife work that could only be from my mother’s hand. But it’s his face, Smith’s perfect, untouched face, that’s burned in my memory. Agonized. Desperate. Worst of all is the hope in his eyes when he sees me.
Haunted by that mistake, I scrub at my hair. “I’ll get there when I can. I said I’d make it back in time to help you and I will—”
The line goes dead. Surprised, I check the screen. No, the call wasn’t dropped. He hung up on me. Smith hung up on me.
“Sir,” the redcap says nervously, “Her Majesty awaits.” He scampers off, leaving me alone in an empty hallway.
I should go. Should be there at my mother’s side, her perfect prince, especially as I’m the only child she can count on. But I can’t tear my eyes away from the phone.
Help me this time.
Something about the way he said it. The despair...
The echo of footsteps makes me glance up. Apparently, I took too long. My mother, dress pristine as ever despite the gore dripping off her hands, smiles triumphantly. “We know where Sláine is. It’s time to go hunting.”
“Then let’s finish this quickly.” I click the watch shut and return it to my pocket, along with my phone. I promised him I’d get there. I have no intention of breaking my vow.
Phineas
He isn’t coming.
I force that fear from my head as I do one last check of the tractor’s oil. When I called Roark this afternoon, he was distracted. Makes sense. Torturing innocent people must take a lot out of a person.
Fuck. I can still hear those screams hours after the call ended. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the metal. It doesn’t stop the memories from crawling out of the dark corners of my mind. For a terrifying moment, the heavy scent of cold, damp stone covers the comforting sharpness of cut vegetation and grease.
Don’t go there. I lift my head and get back to work. I’m not there. I’m not trapped in the Unseelie sídhe. I’m not at Mab’s mercy. I’m home, whole, and safe. Roark is busy fulfilling royal obligations, but he’ll be here.
Just like he was there when Mab was carving into you?
Stop. Stop thinking about it.
I shouldn’t have hung up on him. Shouldn’t have made a snap judgment about his motives again. I should have talked to him. At the very least, I could have asked him for advice of what to do in case he can’t make it. The thought of using the ley line on my own, in a controlled, deliberate way, is enough to make my palms sweat.
He promised he’d come. I trust him. He’ll make it.
“Looking good?” my dad asks.
“Yeah.” I wipe the back of my hand over my forehead and pat the tractor. “It looks good.”
“The forecast’s warning that it’s going to start heating up on Monday. I already called Vick and he’s going to come over to help tomorrow. I know we’ll be starting a little earlier than you and I had discussed, but I don’t want to lose the moisture from that last rainfall. Do you mind helping me get the bins put out in the morning before he gets here?”
My gut pitches, but I hide my expression from him by turning and checking that the oil plug is firmly in place. “Sure.”
He pats my shoulder. “Hurry up. Your mom’s got dinner on the table.”
“Be right there.”
I wait until he’s gone to pull out my cell and dial Roark’s number again. Directly to voicemail this time. “Hey, my dad just told me we’re starting the harvest early. Where are you? I really need you here.”
I hang up, already hating myself for the message. I pace beside the tractor, tugging at my hair, trying to figure out if there’s a way I can sound any less pathetic. I doubt it. Whatever. He’s probably sleeping. I’ll call again in the morning.
* * *
Nothing from him when I wake up. It goes straight to voicemail when I call, so I hang up instead of leaving a message. The doubt I’d rationalized away yesterday has resurfaced with a vengeance and I have no excuses left for his behavior.
Breakfast is on the table and Vick’s on his way over. From there, it’s the mad rush of getting the bins to the fields, helping my dad and Vick get the combines in position, and keeping up with the flurry of work that comes at the start of every harvest.