“Arthur, can I talk to you for a moment?”
Arthur nodded. He ducked into the nearest room. It was another drawing room, this one decorated in buttercream tones. Arthur collapsed into an overstuffed sofa, resting his boots on the corner of the table and sliding his scabbard onto the cushions beside him. He didn’t remove his sword belt.
“Arthur,” I sat down across from him. “I need to ask about Corbin.”
A storm raged in Arthur’s eyes. “No.”
“Please. Just tell me when you last saw him alive. That’s all, I swear.”
“Rowan, don’t torture yourself.”
“I’m not. I just need to know.”
“Don’t torture me, then.”
“It might be important. Maeve isn’t going to talk about her dream because… because she’s Maeve. But I just have this feeling…”
Arthur sighed dramatically. “We were in the entrance hall. Corbin yelled at me to hold the villagers off the first floor. I guess that was so he could get you and Maeve into the priest hole. I was on the staircase throwing down some covering fire when he appeared and yelled at me to hold my breath. He sucked all the air from the room, and we managed to get past the gaspingvillagers and out the door. I could see a bonfire flaring in the meadow, so we headed right for it. I was first down the path but as I passed through the gate, a phalanx of fae approached and Corbin charged past me and plunged into their ranks. Of course they pounced on him. He didn’t even fight them. He just let them drag him away.”
“Why did he do that?” I whispered.
“Fucked if I know!” Arthur yelled. “Probably he was trying to be a chivalrous bastard and sacrifice himself so they’d leave us alone, like he always fucking does. Well, it worked, didn't it?”
Tears pricked the corner of my eyes. Arthur’s anger washed over me, the vein above his eye reminding me of my last foster father, the one who’d locked me in a closet for three days. “Why are you so angry with me? I just want?—”
“Because I didn’t save him!” Arthur yelled. “I was rightthereand I had a weapon and I would’ve cut down every last one of those bastards if only I’d been stronger and faster.”
“Do you need?—”
“I need everyone to leave me the fuck alone!” Arthur yelled.
I ducked as a fireball hit the wall behind me. “Shit!” Arthur yanked a throw rug off the back of the sofa and flung himself at the wall, smothering the flames. Above our heads, the fire alarm beeped.
“What the hell’s going on in here?” Ryan yelled, rushing in. Simon clattered after him, carrying a crystal pitcher of water, which he threw at the smouldering wall.
I slipped out before I got caught in the crossfire between Arthur and Ryan. Flynn came running down the hall, his palm raised in front of him. “It’s Arthur, isn’t it? Jesus, Mary and Joseph and all their wee carpenter friends, can we live in one grand building without burning it down?”
“The house is fine. The fire’s out. Arthur’s about to get a bollocking from Ryan. He’s probably not so fine.” I lowered myvoice. “Hey, can you tell me about Corbin… the last time you saw him that night.”
Darkness flashed in Flynn’s eyes. “Are you trying to figure out if he’s still alive? Because he looked bloody dead as a doornail to me. I know Maeve’s had magical dreams before, but sometimes a dream is just a dream. You shouldn’t be getting your hopes up, mate.”
“I’m not.” A lie. “I just… if Corbin were here, he’d make us explore all the possibilities.”
“Right you are.” Angry voices drowned out Flynn’s words. He grabbed my arm and led me down the hallway, toward the kitchen. “So here’s what I saw. After the villagers broke down the front door, I heard my scone-mix trap go off. That was satisfying. The rest of you ran down and I went back up on the roof to put out the fire in my workshop and the new one Arthur started in the entrance hall like the big eejit he is. I saw a big crowd of people surging out of the inner doors, chasing Corbin and Arthur toward the meadow. I was focused on the fire when someone snuck up behind me and marmaladed me. Next I knew I was tied up on the field.”
“Corbin was still alive when you saw him?”
Flynn peered into a stainless steel cookie jar. “You need something to eat, mate?”
“I’m fine. So Corbin was still alive?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m right foddered. I saw Simon icing a carrot cake this morning. I wonder where he’s hidden it.” Flynn slammed cabinet doors and peered under the sink. “It’s not as nice as your chocolate whiskey cake, but it’ll do the job.”
I tried to ask Flynn another question, but he found the cake and busied himself hunting down a knife and plate. I wasn’t going to get anything out of him. At least he was going to use a plate – back at Briarwood he would scoff handfuls of doublechocolate whiskey cake straight from the cooling rack, leaving trails of crumbs over the floor that drove my anxiety wild.
The thought that I might never clean Flynn’s crumbs off the kitchen floor at Briarwood again slammed into me. Would the castle survive? Could we rebuild it? If I couldn’t find a way to bring Corbin back, would it even be worth it?
Dejected, I returned to our bedroom. Ryan had given us an entire wing to ourselves – a room each – but I knew I couldn’t bear the idea of being separated from Maeve and the guys right now. We’d given Maeve the largest room at the far end of the hall, and that was where we’d all slept last night. I shoved open the door and was surprised to see Blake sprawled across the bed, his fingers knitted across the chest and his crystalline eyes watching a fly buzz around the ceiling.
