A Thief of Nightshade(48)

She turned and saw Aislinn lying in a ball on the floor of the lavish bedroom.

“Oh God, Aislinn.” She went to him and knew by the way he was positioned that something was very wrong, but she wasn’t certain what until he turned over and she caught the glint of metal where his left arm had been. “I think I was the main course,”

he said drowsily.

She felt his head and even through his fur she could tell he was burning up.

“What have they done to you?” She got up and looked around the room, but didn’t see anything that would help. “Where’s Given?”

He sighed and if she didn’t know better she would think she sensed fresh sadness in his voice at the mention of the Shade’s name. “Gone. She was able to cast some spell and get herself out of the dungeon.”

“Maybe she’s gone for help?”

Aubrey suggested hopefully.

Aislinn didn’t say anything at first; when he did, his voice was devoid of its usual hostility toward Given. “After how I treated her? It’s my fault we’re here. It’s my fault you were hurt. If I hadn’t been wallowing in self-pity, I would have seen the Wraith coming. I’ve done nothing but discourage you and bring bad luck since I met you.”

Aubrey returned to his side and stroked his back. “That’s not true. You saved my life ... and you didn’t even know my name or where I was from.

Remember?”

He looked at her with tired eyes.

“You’re the only woman he’s ever loved.

Have I told you that?”

“No, but Jullian did once. I wondered if he was telling me the truth.”

“It was the truth all right, no one else ever caught even the tiniest shred of his affection.”

This reminded her a little of Jullian’s comments the first night they’d kissed— his dismay over her ex-fiance—and she smiled. Without thinking, she pulled the necklace from beneath her shirt and toyed with it. “I knew he wasn’t dead. They found his clothes and everyone said there was no way he’d survived, but,” as she spoke, she clutched the pendant in her hand, “I knew he was...” Suddenly, another vision filled her head.

This time, instead of sitting on a throne, Jullian was riding. His clothing, as it had been before, seemed otherworldly —white, but iridescent like the wings of the Oran. His mount was similarly pure in color save for its single dark horn. Beside him, laughing at whatever clever thing he was saying, was a creature so stunningly attractive yet so devastatingly vile, it had to be Saralia. Jullian, caught unaware by the detached intensity of Aubrey’s emotions, immediately stopped talking.

Saralia’s eyes grew bright with fury and she yelled out in a tongue unknown to Aubrey. The pain hit right as Aislinn’s voice registered.

“Aubrey! Let go.” Claws tore the Oran from her hands, though Aislinn didn’t have to work hard at it. Aubrey was clutching her head in her hands.

Aubrey groaned in pain, “God.”

“Jullian gave this to you?” Aislinn asked calmly.

Aubrey nodded, still moaning, “I saw —”

“I know what you saw, I saw it, too.

And this isn’t the only time. I thought I was dreaming but I wasn’t, was I? You saw him just like I did—on the Fae throne.

Stop moving around so much and it’ll stop hurting.”

She froze, her breath still coming in quick gasps. It wasn’t as bad as the Wraith wound had been, but it wasn’t pleasant.

“What just happened?”

“Well, you just told the Fae queen that her throne isn’t quite as secure as she thought it was. Do you have any idea what this is?”

“An Oran. Given told me.”

Aislinn laughed, a strange enthusiasm building in his tone. “Not just any Oran.

The dragonfly Oran. No wonder Tabor didn’t hesitate to help you, the jerk probably gave it to Jullian before he sent him to your world. He could have told me.”

Aubrey tried unsuccessfully to hide her grimace as she looked up at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“It

was

supposedly

destroyed

centuries ago, after Saralia killed Tabor’s queen. It’s tied to the Lyr somehow, not like it is now, but like it once was, when it was untainted ... before the Fae corrupted it. Did you see the look on his face? He feels you, it’s still speaking to him.”

Aubrey was so angry she was shaking. “That was her, wasn’t it?

Saralia?”

Aislinn took her hand and held it close to the Oran, but not quite touching it.

“Close your eyes.”

“I don’t want to see her—”

“Sssh. Just do it. You won’t see Saralia again, not doing it this way.”

She did as he said and took a deep breath.

“Now, listen. It will speak to you, too.” She started to pull her hand away, but he held it firm. “Just give it a second.”

She was about to shake her head when they rushed over her—not words, like she’d expected, but brief moments of emotion and sentiment. They were Jullian’s.

He’d been so lost at first, so homesick. In time he’d thrown himself into his studies and his writing and after a while he was able to swallow his distrust and his resentment and make a place for himself. He’d learned so much those first few years about life without power and privilege, but even so, he worried for his parents and for the friends and the world he’d left behind. He worried mostly about Aislinn.