A Thief of Nightshade(4)

Sellars didn’t seem to be paying them any attention.

Sam gave Aubrey a wounded expression that lasted until he had gathered his things and left the room.

Aubrey sunk into her chair. “Did you know they still made them like that?”

“Well, past tense for sure. He’s got that whole suave older man thing going on, though. He’s got to be what, thirty-something?”

That sounded about right to Aubrey.

“Have you ever seen eyes like that? And his hair, I’ve never seen blond hair like that. It’s almost white.”

Sam slung her bag over her shoulder as she rose from her chair. “I’ve never seen you light up like this. It’s ... weird. In a good way, of course.” She paused to lower her head and catch Aubrey’s eye.

“Wow, you’re really attracted to him aren’t you?”

Aubrey glided gracefully past Sam to the door. “I have too much going on in my life to deal with a crush on my professor.

Maybe I should drop this class.”

Sam leaped forward and grabbed her shoulder. “You should have seen yourself when he called your name. You want to walk away before you’ve even given that spark of attraction a chance? We are adults, you know, there’s nothing wrong with this. I mean, really, you’re just going to shrug and walk off. Are you familiar with the term ‘masochist?’”

“Is this because of my ‘tempered’

comment?”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know that? Why are you so afraid of people? I was teasing about his age. Look at Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart.”

Aubrey gripped the cold, steel handle of the door, unsure how to respond. “You want to talk about ridiculous? This whole conversation is ridiculous. We’re talking about my professor here.”

Sam grinned. “Already claiming him for yourself, huh? Freud really knew his shit.”

“Our professor. Besides, he could be married, gay or simply uninterested.”

“He’s not married—I didn’t see a ring.” Sam followed her out into the portico.

“You looked?”

“Yes, I looked. For you, of course.”

Sam smirked. “And honey, something

about the way he stumbled all over himself reading Midsummer tells me he’s definitely interested in someone.”

“He didn’t stumble all over himself.

He sounded—”

“Aubs, he read the same paragraph three times before he realized it and turned the page.”

She hadn’t even noticed that.

“Whatever. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

Sam gave her a playful push.

“Really? Why do I get the feeling you’re wrong?”

Later that night, Aubrey sat hunched over her laptop, Googling everything she could about Sellars. She found a couple watered-down bios on the University website and in the local literary guild archives. She was about to give up when she finally stumbled across a book he’d self-published some years back.

A Thief of Nightshade.

She shut the laptop and froze. “This is insane,” she whispered. “I’m stalking him.” Convinced that she should put him out of her mind and focus on her studies, she readied for bed, where she proceeded to stare at the ceiling for almost two hours.

She sat up, briefly noticing the glow of the moonlight as it bathed her window seat. “No,” she whispered. “I am not doing this.” She continued to try to talk

herself out of it as she got out of bed and turned her laptop back on. Taking a deep breath, she hit the download button and saved Dr. Sellars’ novel to her desktop.

She thought she remembered nightshade as a poisonous plant from an introductory biology class she’d taken, but looked it up to confirm it.

Such a shame, it’s a beautiful plant.

After turning off the computer one more time and trying yet again to fall asleep, she finally relented, made a fresh cup of coffee and settled into the window seat with a printed copy of Dr. Sellar’s work in hand.

They came like thieves in the night. Not so very long ago, when Man was busy hoarding his shares and plotting against his brothers, the Fae came and with an iron fist took Avalar–every man, child and beast. A great war was fought and many died trying to defeat them. Finally, in desperation, the royal court of Man made a binding covenant with the Faerie Queen.

Each generation, a son of Man—a prince —would be crowned the Faerie King and sacrifice his mortality so the Queen could retain her youthful reign. This in exchange for peace between the races. And so it was done. Every generation the eldest of the royal family came to the Queen’s Winter Court, forgetting everything of his life once he entered. He became King, only to wither at her side and wait for the moment when the next prince would take his place and let him die.





Chapter Three


Present Day


THE WATER FELT COLDER THAN SHE’D

anticipated and she immediately regretted jumping in. When she surfaced, she coughed up the water that had somehow filled her lungs, though she couldn’t recall having opened her mouth when she went under. She laughed at herself as she rubbed her eyes and hoped that her little brother Harrington–Harry–hadn’t followed her to the cabin.

I have lost my mind.