Wicked Lovely (Wicked Lovely 1)

He opened his eyes then, gazing at the starlight that looked like his little sister, and the artist stepped away. Without thinking, he grabbed at her hand. “I . . . you . . .” He stumbled. Faeries didn’t use mortals’ empty words of gratitude, but he wanted to say something.

But the artist was already walking away, humming a song that he’d once sang to his sisters when they were scared late at night.

As he watched them, Devlin considered intervening: Olivia was a perplexing creature on her most lucid days. She turned to stare directly at him, and then held a finger to her lips.

He startled. While he was hidden in the shadows cast by the side of the cottage, she shouldn’t see him. It was a trick that he found useful for observing the workings of Faerie without the fey or mortals noticing him.

Olivia continued walking toward her own home, and after ascertaining that Rabbit was as fine as he seemed to be on most days, Devlin followed her.

Once they were inside, she sat on the floor. The main room had no furniture at all. It was a bare space with pillows scattered over a woven-mat floor.

“The shadows hurt my eyes today.” She waved her hand at him. “Make them go.”

At a loss, Devlin did so, letting the darkness he wore to hide himself sink back under his skin. No longer hidden, he motioned at the floor. “May I?”

“For a moment.” Olivia kicked a few pillows toward him.

“You can see me.”

“I have eyes.” She gave him a puzzled look. “Do you not see you?”

“I do, but I was hidden. The others—”

“Are not me.” Olivia sighed and reached out and patted his knee. “I’m glad you have the girl who is two. When one gets confused, it is good to have help. Do you need me to take you to her? It can be confusing to walk alone when you are not meant to be on your own.”

“You are kind, Livvy.” Devlin put his hand atop hers. “Do others see me when I wear shadows?”

Her brow furrowed as she stared at him. “Why would they? They are not me.”

“True.” Devlin smiled then. “Will you tell me if Rabbit needs me? You see what no one else can.”

“I see him. I have always seen him.” She sighed. “He needs me, but he’s not sure of it yet. Soon, though.”

For a moment Devlin watched her. Years ago, he’d learned th

at waiting was useful when dealing with Olivia. Her sense of time was unique, as was her sense of order. Present, past, and future sometimes blurred together for her. It made her both helpful and utterly incomprehensible sometimes.

Hours passed. Of that, Rabbit was fairly sure. What he didn’t know was how many hours passed. The sky didn’t shift as it had in the mortal world, and between the irregular landscape and the clinging grief, he wasn’t ever entirely certain of the time.

“Are you feeling any better?” Ani stood in a band of shadows that seemed to flex and pulse like water.

Idly, Rabbit wondered if she noticed the shadowed air.

“Rab?” His sister walked up to him and took something from his hand. He realized that he was still holding the paintbrush he’d picked up when he’d started the day. The image of Tish was long gone, but the comfort that image had given him lingered.

“You need to . . . I don’t know.” Ani wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her face against his chest. “I need you well, Rab.”

“I know.” He stroked her hair. “I’m lost. The world I knew was over there. My family, my girls, my father . . . my art. My court.”

His sister looked up at him. “You have family and court and art here, too. I’m here still, and you’re a part of my court. You can create here. Whatever you need. We can find it or make it here.”

He forced a smile to his lips. “I’m sorry. Losing Tish . . . and not knowing what happened to Dad or Irial . . .”

“I know. I love them too, but we are alive. They, of all faeries, would want us to laugh and—” She broke off as tears filled her eyes. “I want you to snarl at me. I want you to laugh. I need my brother. . . . I lost them too. Don’t make me lose you.”

“I’ll always be with you.” With his thumb, he caught a tear on her cheek and wiped it away. It was past time to try to figure out where he went from here. “Come inside. Tell me about your day.”

Ani snuggled against him and together they went into the little house that was his. She’d invited him to live with her, offered him a replica of their old home, even offered him the right to design whatever he wanted. Instead, he stayed in the artist’s area.