A Thief of Nightshade(50)

As angry as Saralia had been when Jullian had escaped, he’d never seen her this furious. Aubrey would have one hell of a headache when she woke up.

He pulled her close to him, gritting his teeth and ignoring the discomfort from his new metallic limb. He’d asked Aubrey what she’d seen because he hadn’t wanted her to know he’d been privy to it as well —considering the private nature of a few of those moments—but now, as she lay asleep against his chest, he allowed himself the freedom to mourn everything his brother had lost. His heart broke with the weight of Jullian’s worry, not for what would happen to him when he returned to Avalar, but how Aubrey would feel when he never came home. And now she was dying, even as she would gladly give her life to spare his. Aislinn had never known what it

was

like

to

deeply,

unconditionally, love another in this way and in the quiet stillness of the cold dark night, because his brother couldn’t, Aislinn wept in Jullian’s stead.





Chapter Eighteen


GIVEN LOOKED AT HER REFLECTION IN

THE mirror. It had been a while since she’d put on armor of any kind. She wasn’t in full armor as it was—just basic breastplate, shin, thigh and arm guards, but still it was a sight she wasn’t used to seeing. It was certainly something that Aislinn wouldn’t be expecting and she feared his reaction to it. It was bad enough that she’d had to lie to him, but the truth would feel worse than the deception itself.

If he didn’t hate her before he knew whose child she was, he would now.

A knock at the door startled her. It was Oberon.

“I detest seeing you like this. Not proper attire for a princess. Won’t you consider staying here? I would order you to, but we both know what that would accomplish.” Oberon came into her room and sat on the edge of her bed. Her mother had kept the appearance of youth and yet Oberon had aged. At times she wondered if Oberon’s withered frame wasn’t his soul’s way of displaying its woe over what he and his sister had been party to.

“No, Uncle. I must go. For the very reasons I went to begin with. Avalar is dying and the only way to save it is to free the Lyr from its prison.”

He nodded wearily. “I am sending Ian and his men. I trust him to keep you safe, but know that I will not consent to enter into full conflict with the Winter Court. This is not a selfish act. I’m considering the fate of all who trust me as their King. Please tell me you understand this.”

Given wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. He’d been a father to her since she was six years old and, despite Ian’s curt words, she would grieve his passing deeply.

“You know how much I love you,” she said.

He smiled. “Child, your love is all that brightens my life these days. All that makes this sack of old, brittle bones worth carrying around.”

“Forgive me for asking this of you.”

He laughed then and she felt even guiltier. “There is no need. I was weak when I was mortal and remained so even after becoming immortal until I had finally lived enough lifetimes to realize the price of what I’d done. By then, it was too late.”

He paused, his lips trembling slightly. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed when this doesn’t work like you hope it will. I pray you are right. I pray you are right. My throne awaits you, Given, and I dream of

those

days

with

bittersweetness.”

She

shook

her

head,

“Rule

Agincourt? I don’t...”

He shushed her with a modest wave of his hand. “Not now, child. We’ll have time to discuss this once you’ve returned.

Ian awaits you.”

“All right.” She hugged him one last time.

“Given?” Oberon called her just as she reached the threshold of the room.

“Yes?”

“Cedrick is a formidable opponent.

Don’t underestimate him.”

“The Goblin King?” She’d never heard his real name.

Ian’s voice interrupted them as he joined her at the door. “He was born to a poor farmer’s daughter who’d caught the eye of the Prince. When it was discovered that she’d borne him a son, the Prince demanded that the child be handed over to the palace at once. The farmer’s daughter couldn’t bear the loss of her son and the rejection of her lover, so she tucked the infant into his crib and set their house alight. The legend holds that the goblins stole him away just before the flames consumed him entirely.”

Given had grown up hearing stories of the Goblin King—they all had, but they were more related to how deeply he hated Shades. “Why does he hate Shades then, instead of his own kind?”

Oberon answered. “His mother was a Shade. Seren was mainly populated by Changelings.”

“Was? Is Seren no more?” She felt as though she knew the answer already, but it deserved to be asked.

“He had them all turned into statues —those who he didn’t turn into grotesque creatures for work in his mines,” Ian said.

Given clenched her jaw in disgust.

“You need to know what kind of magic we’re up against.” Ian smiled grimly. “He conjures spells in ways few Fae can master. His darkest work is his ability to weave soul portals. Most never return.”