Now all she needed to do was knock on the door.Tomorrow your whole life is going to change.Silva finished her last bite of the raw meat, closing up the Styrofoam container and placing itback in the bag on the passenger seat. Her hand closed around the locket she wore day and night, as a reminder, to keep him close.Fly away, little bird.She had to do this. He had told her to do whatever she needed to do to survive in this world, had done it himself.And you can do it too.And if anyone got in her way, they would find out that Silva of the Nighttime still existed there, rippling beneath the surface, ready to claw her way free.
Silva had the strange sensation of eyes on her as she got out of the car, glancing swiftly in either direction before she walked across the street. The feeling of being watched did not diminish as she walked up the crooked little path to the witch's front door. It wasn't until she was safely ensconced beneath the roof of the large, wraparound porch that she was able to take a deep breath, centering herself. Steadying herself.You can do this. You don't have a choice.She knocked on the door.
The witch answered a few moments later, looking somewhat frazzled, with her curly frizzing hair around her face. Her huge, perfectly round glasses slipped down her nose as her eyes widened behind them, recognizing Silva immediately.
“Oh, my gracious, hello! It’s so nice to see you —” Her voice broke off, panic making her eyes widen further, her hand flapping lightly at her side, as though she might suddenly take wing. “Oh-oh my goodness, do we . . . do we have an appointment? I amsosorry! It’ll only take me a moment to prepare the —”
“We don’t,” Silva cut her off, not wanting to extend the poor woman’s frantic consternation. “I mean, we don’t yet.”
The witch sagged against the door, her overwhelming relief at having not forgotten an appointment nearly taking her off her feet. “Oh, I’m so glad! I would’ve felt horrible if I’d forgotten . . . well, nevermind that. What can I do for you?” Her eyebrows turned down slightly. “Most people make appointments on the portal —”
“I don’t have time for that.” Silva’s voice wavered, all of her bravado melting away in a hot rush, heat racing up her neck, up to the tips of her ears, crowding her face until tears burned in her eyes.You don't have a choice. “I-I’m going to be leaving soon. Moving away. And I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Cambric Creek was ruined for her. If she could not get everything she wanted with him, she wouldn’t tolerate it at all. Her eyes filled with tears, desperation crowding her insides, making it hard to breathe. Seven months of uncertainty, of nausea, of this gnawing hunger inside her.You don't have a choice."But I need your help."
Tate
He’d known the moment he’d stepped into the hallway, after he’d extricated himself from a conversation with the traveling troll couple and several others, leaving the ballroom to travel the short distance to the outer doors, what would be waiting for him on the other side.
The smell of smoke drifted in the air, pushed by some invisible breeze, tickling at his nose, even through the winery's heavy oaken doors. As he stepped out of the reception hall, Tate closed his eyes, nearly able to pick out the sound of faraway pipes.
The mortals on this side of the veil viewed the fae world as wild, unpredictable, unknowable. They were wrong. As Tate pushed the doors open, finding himself surrounded by the trees of a regrettably familiar forest, he rolled his eyes. They were entirely predictable.
The forest was lit with eyes that night. Beady and small, glowing red from low bushes and in the black branches of trees, watching and waiting. He did not need to walk far before finding him.
Cadoc stood beside the crystal pool of water, looking up at the moon with his hands clasped behind his back, turning as Tate approached as if he were startled to find him there. Tate rolled his eyes again. He could very much do without the theatrics. He stopped, a few feet away from the pool. Stopped, and waited.
The fae man cocked his head, luminescent beneath the moon, but said nothing, doing his own waiting, his lips pressed tight in a smile that crinkled his honey-gold eyes. All around them the forest held its breath, red eyes unblinking.
Tate sighed. "If you're just going to stand here staring all fucking night, I have better things to do, you know."
At that, the other man's smile split. Sharp and jagged, an endless maw of knife-like teeth, stretching and unfathomable, his soft laughter like the tinkling of a tiny bell. All around the clearing Tate merely rolled his eyes again, as more than half of the watching eyes vanished from sight, pulling away at the sound ofhisvoice.
Cadoc considered him, cocking his head, gruesome smile never slipping. "You've been gone for averylong time," said suddenly, his voice light and his tone conversational, as if the thought had only just occurred to him and he was discussing something as inconsequential and uninteresting as the weather.
"Have I? I suppose I hadn't noticed." Tate patted his jacket pocket, feeling for and finding his cigarettes. He didn’t enjoy smoking, took no enjoyment from the taste or the effects of the nicotine, but he liked having empty hands less. He took his time lighting the thing, sliding the lighter back in his pocket before taking a deep drag. Only then did he turn back to the conversation. "What exactly is along timeto you?"
It was a perfectly reasonable question, he thought.
After all, time meant nothing tothem. Time was not a concept they understood, and as a consequence, they cared not at all about it. It was always night at the Court of Autumn. The BonfireQueen presided over an endless night of revelry, the celebration of the final harvest, of hunting and feasting and dancing, bonfire flames flickering to the sky, a celebration of the end of life, a breath before death blanketed the woods in a frozen winter stasis.
How could they possibly understand that while they drank their honeyed wine and hunted beasts through the forest, that somewhere else, the sun was rising? That the sun would rise and set, over and over, making an endless journey across the sky, marking the passage of that one thing of which they had no comprehension. They did not age like mortals. Their bodies did not break down, their cells slowing and freezing once they fully developed, keeping them locked in place, forever young and beautiful. How could they know that outside of this black wood, the beings who walked on the other side of the veil lived and died, the consequence of time?
The elves used to be the same, Tate thought with a pang. The preferred consorts to the high fae, once upon a time ago, chosen for their vicious, bloodthirsty nature and beauty. Mixing Elvish blood with fae blood had resulted in Elvish blood lines that flourished for centuries, living for more than a thousand years, perfect and untouchable. Silva had the spirit of one of those ancient Elvish warriors, but too many generations of intermingling the blood with lesser species had diminished the effect of the fae completely. Instead, his vicious little dove would live a whole lifetime without him, there in the sun. She might live her entire life before he made it back to her.
Tate sucked on the end of his cigarette, pushing all thoughts of Silva out of his mind.Not now. Not here.
Cadoc laughed at the question, as if it were a jape. He seemed in a merry mood. Tate knew from experience that boded ill for anyone in his path.
"You know," he said at last, consideringly, "I have no idea.” Another laugh, as if the mere notion of asking him to consider time to be too preposterous for words. “Just one minute you were there, andpoof." Another cheerful chuckle. "The next minute you weren't. You do have a way of finding hidden corners, don’t you . . . still.” His demeanor changed, spine straightening, his smile stretching into one devoid of humor, his eyes lethal. “Your absence has been noted, dear heart. Our Lady wishes for your immediate return. Your presence is requested back at court."
Tate took his time, blowing out a slow lungful of smoke in the other man’s direction. “Is that what you are now? Errand boy?”
For the briefest instant, Cadoc froze. His grin hardened into a grimace as Tate looked around in disinterest, before mirth returned to his features, his low laugh a deadly warning. All around them, the trees had gone black, the watching beasts fleeing from the silky menace in his laughter.
Tate didn't move, as Cadoc approached. Didn't stiffen his stance or shift his weight, stayed exactly as he was, as if the other man were merely a gnat, circling him slowly. When the fae man leaned in, plucking a stray lock of Tate's silky black hair, he held it to his nose for a minute, rubbing smoothness between his fingers before letting it drop. When he laughed again, soundingdelighted. Tate tightened. Anger was predictable. Glee was far more dangerous.
"Sometimes, dear heart, things have a way of happening injustthe right order, don't you think?" He looked at Tate a bit closer, his eyes squinting as he did so. "You're looking quite unwell. This mortal life does not agree with you, sweetling. Come. It's time to get back to where you belong." He held out a hand, beckoning, reaching, waiting for Tate to reach back, to take his hand and follow him down the path.
He had replayed that moment in his head time after time after time. Wanting to scream at the boy he'd been.They don't understand you, sweetling. They couldn't possibly, how could they?Thisis where you belong, dear heart. Haven't you always wanted to belong?It was all he’d wanted, all he’d ever wanted. And somehow, this cunt had known exactly where his weakness was.
