“But I’m a faery when I’m out there?” He suddenly needed to have her confirm it. The weirdness of her being able to steal his will had unsettled him.
“A strong faery. A faery few will be able to overcome. You are different, but yes, definitely a faery.” She looked away from him, staring at a bench that seemed as if it was carved of ivory. It was surrounded by tiny winged insects that shone like fireflies. They moved in a blurring arc and vanished.
“Okay. In here I’m a mortal. So what am I to do? Do I just lie about?” Seth hoped that his being a faery wasn’t going to make him turn into someone who parsed words so oddly. Conversation with many faeries was infuriating. Sorcha was no exception.
She gave him another tolerant look—as if he were the one being difficult. “You will do what mortals have always done for us: you will create.”
/> “Create?”
“Art. Music. Verse.” Absently, she ran a hand over the bench. The patterns on it re-formed under her touch. “Everything you need is available here. Whatever medium. Whatever palette. Find inspiration and create something amazing for me.”
“So my price for immortality is weeks spent here doing what I enjoy doing?”
“Just”—she gave him a calculating look that he had seen on other queens’ faces—“don’t disappoint me. I will have your passion in your creation, or you won’t leave.”
“No.” Seth’s temper piqued, and he took a step toward her. “A month per year. That is the deal.”
“A month of fealty in Faerie was the deal. If you are to truly serve me, you will give me true art. Nothing offered to fill the surface only. True art. True passion.” Her tone grew gentle then. “Rest today, Seth. Tomorrow, I will return.”
There was something hidden in her voice, but before he could ask any questions, a gray stone wall on the opposite side of the garden path opened. Devlin emerged from behind it.
Sorcha gave a sad smile to Seth that confused him. “A mortal shouldn’t be allowed the autonomy and influence you’ve had. Three of the four courts have been touched by your will. Balance needs to be reestablished. You are out of the natural order and so must be nullified in some way. It is in everyone’s best interests.”
Seth suppressed a shudder as he looked from the High Queen to the waiting faery. Seth had believed that the worst of the faeries belonged to Niall these days, but as he looked at the placid expression on Devlin’s face, he wasn’t so sure.
The monsters don’t always look like monsters.
Devlin gestured for Seth to precede him through the stone doorway, away from Sorcha, and Seth had to wonder just how far the queen’s lackey would go to “nullify” something she declared out of order.
CHAPTER 27
Sorcha came to Seth’s room again the next day—and the three that followed. She’d stay all day, for countless hours while he worked. They spoke of life and dreams, of philosophy and art, of music he’d enjoyed and theater she’d seen. They walked in the garden. And sometimes, she simply sat quietly meditating or reading while he painted or sketched. Seth couldn’t imagine being away from her. If not for missing Aislinn, he could see himself staying in Faerie. Out there, he had no real purpose, no direction, no family. He lived only for Aislinn. In Faerie, he existed to create Art. He felt whole for the first time he could remember, at peace and sure of everything. He’d come seeking immortality, but what he’d found was more valuable.
Happiness. Peace. Home. It was tinged with an unending ache for Aislinn and a new sorrow that he’d be leaving Sorcha at the end of the month. His choice to be a faery had given him everything he’d sought—and other gifts he hadn’t dreamed he could ever have.
The thought of leaving Faerie was frightening.
He channeled those emotions, desires, and fears into his art. Mostly, he’d been painting. The room was littered with half-finished canvases. He tried to work with the metals that had appeared in the side room as well. He’d completed a few tolerable things, but nothing worth her—nothing that met his goal.
“Seth?” Sorcha was beside him. “Are you able to pause for a bit today?”
“For?”
She smiled and wiped a bit of paint from his face. “You have a guest, dear.”
Guests. He couldn’t leave, but he could have guests if Sorcha allowed it. His heart was thundering. “A guest? Ash? She’s here?”
“Not her.” Sorcha sounded almost sad as she said it.
The Dark King appeared out of nothingness behind Sorcha. “I see my advice was completely ignored,” he said.
Seth embraced Niall. Aside from seeing Aislinn, nothing else could please him as much as seeing the Dark King. He stepped back and said, “You were wrong.”
Niall laughed. “More arrogant already…you’ve been spending time with the wrong court, little brother.”
The High Queen’s tense expression relaxed ever so slightly. “I’ll leave you to roam with Niall then. I’ll be in the dining hall after.” To Niall, she only said, “Return to me when you’re ready to talk about other matters. Mayhaps we can discuss regrets….”
Seth couldn’t help but watch her as she left. He could count the heartbeats between each movement. He had: they never altered. The rhythm of her motion was one of perfection. When her hand lifted to open the door, it was with the same arc each time she reached out. If he measured the distance, Seth knew she’d match it with precision. Today though, she hesitated for a heartbeat extra on several steps. The beat of her movements was imprecise.