Rook looked up at Lark and it seemed, for the first time, that I was not the only one unaware of something.
“I need a stronger drink,” Lark said simply and then rose and strode toward the kitchen, leaving us all in his wake.
We spent the rest of dinner eating silently and avoiding eye contact with one another.
Chapter nine
A Court of Light and Life
Apparently,magicwastraceable.Lark’s magic was like his fingerprint, which meant it could be recognized, it could be tracked. And, since he was supposed to have been banished for another forty or so years or whenever his father forgave him, whichever came first, it was indisputable that his father had a trace on him. I was told that meant that if Lark used even a moderate amount of magic while in the immortal plane, anything more than a household chore or a simple glamour, his father would know. And that, apparently, would be a terrible thing.
Since Rook had been banished alongside him as well, for reasons that I still didn’t know, that meant Cass was the only Fae among us capable of using the full capacity of her magic. Therefore, she had to shadowstep all of us to the Court of Light and Life one at a time.
“Let’s get this over with,” she declared the next morning, clapping her hands together and heading straight for Rook. “One shadowstep to the Ivory Throne at your service.”
“Not the throne,” Lark interrupted, his tone warning. “Outside.”
Cass nodded.
“Are you alright?” Lark asked as I shuffled on the balls of my feet.
I turned to find him watching me warily, intense gaze fixed on my face.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Court of Light and Life sounds better than any alternative. Particularly, Blood and Bone.”
Rook snorted at that. Even Lark’s lips stretched up into a quick smirk.
“Ready?” Cass asked, reaching toward Rook.
“Don’t rumple my tunic,” he grumbled so Cass slapped him hard on the chest and they both vanished into thin air.
“When you meet them, it’s going to seem like they are the embodiment of all things good,” Lark spoke quickly. “Just remember, they aren’t all that different from us.”
“What do you—”
But Cass was back.
“Ready, Ren?” she asked, reaching out a hand, far more gentle with me than she had been with Rook.
I held Lark’s gaze for a beat longer before reaching out to Cass. The moment her warm hand enveloped mine, the world squeezed away. I kept my eyes closed this time, hoping that I wouldn’t feel so sick on the other end if I didn’t watch the world spin around me. No such luck.
I landed roughly, as always, but remained on my feet, even if I did take a few stumbling steps forward and nearly tumbled off a cliff. I probably would have if Rook hadn’t reached out to grab me at the last second, pulling me back against his chest.
“Ashes, Cass!” Rook cursed. “You didn’t have to take the novice to the edge of a cliff!”
“Oh, Ren, I’m so sorry!” Cass was shouting from where she had landed gracefully a few feet away. “I’m not used to shadowstepping someone that doesn’t know how.”
Rook held me a moment longer until I caught my breath and stepped aside. Then he released me.
“It—it’s okay,” I stuttered, still in shock as I peered down at the jagged rocks below.
We were in a desert above a canyon. Sand so white it almost looked like snow surrounded us. I could already feel it in the practical hiking boots Cass had summoned for me that morning, the coarse grains grating against my socks. And those jagged rocks below, they weren’t rocks at all. They were the towering spires of a city. A city built into the smooth rock around it. Gold glistened from rooftops, beautiful sandstone buildings glimmered beneath, and people walked between them but not like they had in the Court of Wanderers.
The pace was slower here, almost lazy. No one hurried about, rushing from one place to another. There were no gaudy orange jewels or varying shades offensive to the eye. It was all natural sandstone and gold and the people who strode about wore white gossamer gowns, long for the women, short for the men, so similar to the togas of Ancient Greece that I wondered absentmindedly if these Fae weren’t who the Greek gods had been modeled after. What lucky mortal had been given the opportunity to see this place of wonders all those centuries ago? Who wrote them down first? A Mycenaean singer, Homer, Hesiod?
Lark appeared then with Cass, straightening his sleeves as though the shadowstep hadn’t affected him at all. I shook my head to clear the thoughts of ancient Greek philosophers and artists long dead and wondered how many times he had done it now, if it had become as second nature to him as walking.
“When we get inside, find somewhere to hide, Rook,” Lark commanded and his companion nodded stiffly in response as we started walking around the cliff, making our way towards a set of steps carved into the side nearby.
