I’m the reason Madelaine is gone. For that reason alone, I’ll never give in to him.
From across the sewer, Rys’s golden eyes gleam with the secret knowledge that, no matter how I deny him, in the end he’ll win.
He’s fae. They don’t know how to lose.
I can’t do this right now. I’ve run out of adrenaline at this point, and my stomach has twisted itself into one giant knot. I’m two seconds away from hurling the empty contents of my angry stomach. If the bile splashes and stains his pristine white pants, that’s all the better.
He’d deserve it.
Six years. It’s been six years and I remember that terrible afternoon like it was yesterday. For six years, I worked to forget it—to try to believe the alternative events that the courts and my doctors tried to convince me were real—and now that I’m face to face with Rys again, I know what’s really real.
And I know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make it all go away.
Even tell the Light Fae the truth.
“Nine told me about the stupid prophecy, okay? About how… how the Shadow is destined to take out the queen. How she’s got this crazy idea that I’m the Shadow—”
“Melisandre doesn’t think so,” Rys interrupts. “She’s sure of it.”
Great. That doesn’t make this any better. “Well, you can tell her from me that she’s got nothing to worry about. I’m not killing anyone.” In a burst of anger, I jab my gloved finger in his direction. “There’s only one murderer here and it sure as hell ain’t me.”
It takes him a second to get it. His lips tug down. If he was a regular guy, his brow would be furrowed. He’s part of the fae, though, and not a single wrinkle mars his perfect expression.
“Are you still mad about the human girl?” he asks, like he’s surprised by my reaction.
“She wasn’t just some girl,” I snap in indignation. “She was my sister!”
Rys has the nerve to wave me off. “She was human, and, I’m sorry, but she was far more fragile than I realized. If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t have broken her beyond repair if I actually thought you cared about her.”
Wow. I mean… wow.
“You never should’ve been there in the first place,” I spit out. “If you would’ve left me alone, Madelaine would still be alive.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Time will tell, my ffrindau.” Rys angles his head, frowning when he notices that his precious sliver of light is little more than a thin line disappearing into the darkness. “Alas, for now, time also grows short. I wish I could stay and play with you. But, you see, my kind, the Seelie, the Blessed Ones… we’re not suited to the dark. I’ll leave that to your accursed prince of shadows. Me? I need a little more… mmm… illumination.”
His lyrical tone when he brings Nine up again—because who else could he mean?—is so mocking, I have this sudden urge to pick up my dirty slipper and fling it at him. First, he casually mentions how carelessly he murdered my sister, then he puts down Nine, the only person who—for whatever reason—has always been there for me. Who the hell does he think he is?
I’m already screwed and he’s made me so stinking furious. So what if I piss him off? It would only go to prove that I’m not wrong when I think of the Light Fae as an actual monster.
Before I can grab the slipper or flinch or, I don’t know, try to hobble up the sewer’s pitted ladder just to get away from him, Rys reaches out into the dark space in front of him. He uses one of his long, slender fingers to draw an imaginary line in the air. Three more follow, a perfect square. It looks like he’s playing some weird game of charades, or maybe practicing his pantomime.
And then he presses the flat of his palm against the square he’s drawn. There’s some give to it. Rys pushes gently and—
I gasp.
His hand is gone. Seriously. His whole hand disappears, and most of his wrist, too, like a giant eraser has rubbed them right off. Just… just gone. From the middle of his forearm up, I can see every inch of him despite the dark because of his sudden shine. His golden glow has gone from dim to full blast again. It only makes it more obvious that a part of him has vanished into thin air.
“Maybe,” Rys says, giving his arm a jerk, “with this, you’ll start to things a little more clearly.”
His hand reappears as he backs away from the square—and it isn’t empty. I can’t really see what he’s holding. Whatever it is, it’s black and narrow. After swooping low, Rys sets it gingerly at his feet before aiming the same finger at it.
There’s a spark, followed by the tang of metal in the air.
I’m immediately blinded.
I clamp my eyes shut. Too late. The night vision I’ve gained since hiding out in the sewer is all but gone. I can’t see a damn thing except for the fiery flash.
Keeping my eyes closed isn’t an option. Not with Rys looming nearby. To think of being so vulnerable, standing with him with my eyes closed… No. No. I absolutely refuse to let the Light Fae have any advantage.