I pick up his note again and read the rest of it.
This is a mini version, but I’ll create a full-size one for Hera’s temple. The tree will never stop yielding fruit. When one is picked, another will grow in its place. People will come from all over to visit the tree and stand in awe. They’ll believe this is her doing. She’ll gain new respect and, potentially, new followers.
—Hawthorne
In awe, I stare at it. This is amazing. It hits on so many levels. There’s no way I would have been able to come up with this on my own. Nor do I have the magic to do it. I reach out and pick fruit from the tree and watch as another sprouts. Bringing it to my nose, I sniff and find a light scent. Slightly fruity but also floral from the flowers that bloom on its branches. Hera’s going to love it.
I bite my lip. I can’t believe he did this for me. It must have taken a lot of magic. Does that mean he might forgive me?
12
JAMISON
It took everything in me not to pull Phaedra into my arms. The hurt in her eyes nearly brought me to my knees, but trusting isn’t easy. For any of us. I need her to understand the gravity of hiding her feeling, her past, so we can find a way forward. Although I’m not a hundred percent sure if that’s even possible. I can see Hawthorne coming around, but Mathias? His daughter is everything to him.
Hawthorne shifts in the seat beside me. “I overheard you and Phaedra on the porch. Do you think she means it?” When I look at him, he continues. “She said she fell for us too. Did you get the sense that she was telling the truth?”
Hawthorne knows I can tell when someone’s lying. I don’t know if it’s a power I have or something I developed from dealing with my father, but I’ve always been able to tell truth from lies. I pause. Maybe that’s why I felt blindsided by all this. Phaedra didn’t lie. She avoided the truth. Different sides of thesame coin but enough that I couldn’t clearly see she was hiding something big.
I think back to the discussion with her and the flare of happiness that surged through me when I heard her words. “Yes, but is it enough?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I want it to be, but how do we trust her again?”
“I don’t know,” I admit with a heavy sigh. Letting her into our circle was hard the first time. I keep trying to see this from her angle, but my anger keeps getting in the way.
Knowing we need to focus, I unroll the paper in front of me and reach for a pen. “Let’s go over the plans. I don’t want Caron slipping through our grasp.”
The flight is smooth and time flies as we settle on a plan for the meeting. Landing at a private airfield two hours north of London in Birmingham, we slip into our disguises, then transfer from the jet into a waiting Range Rover. The last thing we want to do is alert the council that we’re in the country.
A half hour later, we’re parking at Cadbury World. Oddly enough, it’s the perfect place for a meeting. Multiple entrances and exits. Crowds of people but small enough to easily find someone. And as long as we’re disguised, the sheer number of cameras provides built-in protection from an ambush.
We follow the path until we come to the statue of Terpsichore, the Greek goddess of music and dance. The second we get near, Caron falls into step with us, a bar of chocolate in his hand. Tall, with ice-blond hair, he looks more like a warrior with his broad shoulders and muscular physique.
“Want some?” he offers without looking at us.
Hawthorne dips his head and snaps off a square. “Thank you for your kindness.” After eating it, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold coin, which he gives to Caron. The exchange is aritual Elves have followed since time began. A show of good faith and a willingness to share in their fortune.
Caron slips the coin into his pocket. “How did you find out about me?”
Several kids walk by, chatting and laughing, and I take advantage of it. “Mercer let us borrow her car. When we parked it at the British Museum, you stepped out of the portal with her.”
A huge sigh leaves him, and he murmurs, “I should have known she wouldn’t betray me.” He chuckles. “Damn, she’s going to make me pay for not trusting her.” There’s something in his voice that makes me think he’s looking forward to it. When I raise an eyebrow, he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is how I got into this mess.”
He swerves slightly to avoid a kid, then continues. “As Osian’s younger son, I knew I didn’t want to follow in my father’s corrupt footsteps. The council held no appeal for me. Neither did an aristocratic life full of boredom and parties. For a long time, I drifted. Didn’t know what I wanted to do. Until I found Harlequin…and Bennett.”
I exchange a glance with Hawthorne, then lift a shoulder. “Who’s Bennett?”
“He created Harlequin,” Caron informs us, looking surprised. “Well, he and Mercer did, although he’s head of the organization. Disillusioned with our aristocratic society, he wanted a way to accumulate power, enough to rival the council’s, and he succeeded. Surpassed it even, I’d say. His reach is everywhere, which is how he found out about Phaedra and the role she plays for the gods. Curator, thief, spy, protector of humans. When she started using Mercer as a supplier, Bennett quickly became obsessed with her.”
Hawthorne reaches out and grabs Caron with one fist, jerking him to his toes as he yanks him closer. “What do you mean he’s obsessed with Phaedra?”
I place a hand on his shoulder. “Easy. We’re attracting attention.”
He glances around, then pulls Caron in for a hug. “If you attempt to run, I’ll have every elf in this world hunting you down. Not to mention what I’ll do to you when I find you.” Releasing him, he slaps him on the back, hard, then takes a step away.
After a second, everyone goes about their business.
“Go on,” I order Caron, my own patience coming to an end.
