A Thief of Nightshade(47)

Given painfully sat up, brushing Ian’s hand away as she did, and tried her voice again: It was tired and hoarse, but it would do for now. “She bears the Oran, Uncle. And yes, I took on her pain.”

She hadn’t told Aubrey much about the Oran because she couldn’t have without revealing how she’d known it to begin with. The particular Oran she wore, like everything else about her, was not ordinary. It had to have been given to Jullian by the Dragon King himself. The dragonfly Oran had once belonged to Queen Eila, who was killed by Saralia during the first war; it was said that the Dragon King had destroyed it after her death. But somehow he’d found the strength to spare it. Perhaps it was all he’d had left of his beloved, she thought sadly.

“Given,” Ian said as one would to a child who’d made the wrong assumption from a grown-up conversation, “it’s not miraculous that a member of the royal family would have found an Oran that survived. If any would have had possession of it, it would have—”

“The Dragonfly Oran,” she said. “I saw it glow at her touch. Not only does a human possess it—it responds to her.

Tabor must have known this. He sent her to the Crimson Stair to barter for the glamour potion. What little remains.”

Both Oberon and Ian sat back. Lipsey climbed into Given’s lap as she gently sat upright.

Everything

hurt,

her

head

especially, and the longer she held onto Aubrey’s wounds, the worse she would feel. But it was a burden she gladly bore.

Oberon thumbed the end of his white beard. “I just don’t know, Given. I need to think about this more. I need time to make a decision.”

“You don’t have time. Aubrey is in danger, as is Jullian’s brother, and they don’t have an eternity for you to argue with your advisors.”

“An hour, then. If I am to send my people into war, you must humor me a mere hour.” He looked at Lipsey. “Come, little one, we may have use for you and your chatter yet.”

“We aren’t speaking of war,” she protested.

Oberon tilted his head sternly, though he kept a gentle expression on his face.

“But we are. If we intervene with our forces to spare her now, it will mean the declaration of war. It will mean the end of thousands of years of peace.”

“Peace at what cost? Help them, Uncle. Please. This is also your chance for redemption.”

“Perhaps. I will return shortly.”

“Please hurry.”

Oberon left his study, his long robes swishing behind him.

“He’s been worried sick about you.

You defied him by leaving after he refused you his blessing in this and now you ask for his help?” Ian frowned, reaching for a basin of water and a rag.

“It appears that he wasn’t the only one,” she said smugly. “And I’m asking for more than his help. I’m asking for yours as well. For all of Agincourt’s. She is this

world’s

only

chance

for

restoration.”

“You wish his Majesty, your uncle, dead? With such little grief? Do you know how that breaks his heart? He’s loved you like his own daughter since the day he spared your life.”

She snatched the rag from his hands as he neared her with it and was about to tend to her wounds when he took it back and dabbed at her cheek and hairline. She bit her lip to keep from lashing out at him.

He apparently noticed.

“That was unfair of me, Given. I’m sorry. You can’t understand what it was like. We’ve been searching for you for days, knowing you could find us whenever you chose. I would never have imagined the lengths you’d go for this. Why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because you would have said no.”

Not to mention that she’d recently denied his request for her hand in marriage, after her own uncle had approved the proposal.

She loved Ian, but more like a brother.

She wanted to avoid hurting him any more than she already had. “We’ve had nothing but one terrible blow after another.” She touched his hand pleadingly, “Aubrey’s been marked by a Time Wraith, likely sent by my mother to even the odds. Jullian’s brother is Ellohim and Jullian knows nothing of what he’s lost. Imagine what it would be like to be him. He was willing to give everything, leave everything that he loved behind so that those who betrayed him would have a chance at freedom, all to have it taken from him the moment he finds happiness again for himself. I gained more than just her pain when I cast the spell. She loves him more than even she can understand, far more than she cares for her own well being.

Please, Ian, for me.”

Ian finished with the rag and considered this. After a long, quiet moment, he motioned to the door. “Let them escort you to your room so you can get changed.”

Given started to protest when Ian pressed his hand against her mouth.



“You’re hardly fit for burial in these scraps,

let

alone

a

fight

against

Koldavere.”

Aubrey screamed at the door when it closed behind her. She wasn’t much for pouting or pitching fits, but she’d reached her limit.

“Sweetheart, save your strength.” It was the first time Aislinn had used the term sincerely and the sound of it took Aubrey’s breath away. Jullian.