Shadow (Touched by the Fae 2)

The whole march through the palace, I could tell that Nine was just waiting for us to be alone so that he could tear into me. It’s obvious that he’s against me agreeing to the queen’s terms, and he begins his argument by saying just that.

“I can’t let you do this. Aislinn

sacrificed himself so that you would survive. Your mother risked making a bargain with me—me, Riley—so that you’d be protected from the Fae Queen while you came of age. They would never want you to give up your life for them.”

“I wouldn’t know that,” I retort. “I don’t know anything about them at all because, for the last twenty years, they’ve been trapped in Faerie because of me.”

“Not because of you. Understand me when I tell you this. They’ve been trapped in Faerie because of Melisandre. Not you.”

Even though I’m looking up at Nine, all I see is the frightened look on my mom’s face, the resigned air that surrounded my father. I let out a soft sigh. “I wish I could believe that.”

“You can. Because I’m telling you it’s so.”

And he can’t lie.

That’s another way this Nine is so… so different than the Shadow Man I once knew. Back then, he spoke in riddles, using words that could mean anything and everything. Not Nine. Not now. As if he’s trying to prove that I never have to wonder if he’s manipulating me, he’s begun to speak in absolutes.

Not perhaps. Not maybe. Not it could be so.

Too bad it’s too late to change anything.

“It was easier when I thought they were dead,” I confess, turning away from Nine. The weight of expectation in his gaze is too heavy. He’s a Dark Fae—he doesn’t understand how I feel. But he’s also Nine, and I need him to. “It took so long for me to get past being abandoned as a baby. Honestly, I’m not sure I really did, but it became easier when I accepted they were gone. I mourned them, and I got over it. Fine. But they’re alive, Nine. They’re still around, just turned into statues. They don’t deserve that.”

“You don’t deserve that, either.”

Maybe. Maybe not.

I’m no saint. I’m not perfect. I’ve done some shitty things in my life, and I’ve had some fucking terrible things happen to me. People have been hurt because of me. They’ve died.

I couldn’t save Madelaine.

I couldn’t save Carolina.

I thought my mom was out of reach… but she’s here. She’s with my dad, a man who was nothing but a mystery—and I can save them.

Sure, it’ll cost me my freedom, but maybe it’s worth it.

One glance up at Nine and I know that, not only is he aware of where my thoughts—and my heart—are leading me, he so doesn’t agree with me.

“You can’t trust the queen.”

Duh. “I know that.”

“There’s nothing to stop her from taking one of her guard’s swords and lopping off your head once you’ve agreed to let her freeze you in place.”

“I know that, too. I’m not a complete moron, Nine. If I do this, I’m pretty sure I’m not getting out of this in one piece. But isn’t that what the prophecy said? It’s either her or me, and it’s not like I ever really believed I had a chance against the queen of the fae. At least, this way, I’m getting something out of it. I just hope that she lets you go, too. Maybe I can try to bargain with her some more, make sure you stay safe.”

Nine’s eyes gleam. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve survived Melisandre before.”

I’m beginning to realize that.

There’s something there, and it’s not only how easily he calls her by her name instead of her title, like Rys did. It’s the way she coos his name, how she mentioned that she hand-picked him to join her guard, then lost him to, well, me.

I’m thinking that really pissed her off.

Great. So now she probably hates me for two reasons. I should probably count myself lucky that she didn’t follow through with her threat and have Rys remove my head to get to my necklace then and there. At least, if I’m frozen as a statue first, I won’t realize it when the fatal strike comes my way.

I just don’t understand why she needs me to agree before she turns me into a statue. Is it because she wants to make me suffer first? The all-powerful Fae Queen should be able to snap her fingers or wave her hands and, poof, I’m frozen solid.