“There are no seasonal spectral fae,” Ansel says. “There are two main types: dusk and death. Shadow pixies are dusk fae. Like their diurnal pixie counterparts, their gifts lie in emotional manipulation.”
“What’s their emotion?” I ask, though I already suspect I don’t want to know.
“Fear.”
“Oh good,” I say heavily, dreading this more than I already was.
Ansel nods, though he doesn’t look particularly concerned. “It’s going to be uncomfortable. Not only do shadow pixies create the illusion of terror, but they conjure…” He pauses like he’s trying to find a way to describe it. “I don’t want to call themhallucinations, because from what I’ve read, it doesn’t sound like you actually see them. I suppose you could say the visionsare the nightmare equivalent of a daydream. You know it’s not real, but it’s alive in your mind.”
“And I thought winter magic was bad,” I say, trying to make a joke but just feeling a little ill. “How will all this affect Rowan?”
“I don’t really know. Best-case scenario, he’ll get a little jumpy. Worst, he’ll go mad with terror, and we’ll have to find a way to repair his brain.”
“Repair hisbrain?Are you serious?”
“I said worst-case,” Ansel says, like he thinks I’m overreacting. “I don’t foresee that happening.”
“But you just said you don’t know!” I exclaim.
“When I pulled your magic, I felt a little lighter, but I wasn’t sky-high on happiness. I assume it will be the same for Rowan when he draws from the shadow pixie magic.”
Realizing Rowan has been silent through much of the conversation, I turn to him. “We don’t have to do this. This feels like too big a risk to take.”
Rowan frowns, rubbing the back of his neck, deep in thought. Finally, he says, “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you saying that as a reasonable almost-sorcerer who’s considered all the consequences, or as a man who doesn’t want to admit the idea of fear-magic is absolutely terrifying?”
He cracks a smile. “The first. Besides, I’ll only draw as much as necessary.”
“How will you know how much is necessary? I mean, how will we be able to tell if it worked? I can feel the bond, but I’m not sure I’ll immediately notice its absence.”
“We’ll have to draw a sample of either your or Rowan’s magic and take a look at it,” Ansel says.
“You might as well take mine, since you’ll need it anyway,” I say. “Do you have an extra dust pendant?”
“Russell gave me several.”
“Of course he did.”
“We can hash this over forever, or we can get started,” Ansel says. “What will it be?”
“I know my opinion means little to you all, but it’s late,” Ash says. “I suggest you revisit this in the morning.”
I’m about to argue, worried I’ll lose my nerve if we wait, but the councilman is right. It’s nearly eleven now, and Ansel just put on an elaborate fireworks display. This might not be the best time to tamper with our magic.
“Okay,” I reluctantly agree. “You’re right. We should probably hold off.”
“Tomorrow, then?” Ansel asks, disappointed.
Judging from how late the sorcerer sleeps in, he’ll probably be awake for hours, anyway. But now that we have more info, I would like to give Rowan time to think it over. After all, I certainly wouldn’t want to interact with shadow pixie magic and will understand if he decides he doesn’t want to go through with it.
“We’ll meet you here after the shops close,” Rowan agrees, starting for the door.
Ash follows us out the back. When we reach the street, he says, “It’s late. Why don’t I take Kit home? There’s no reason for you to go all the way to the cottage and then back to Marshall’s.”
Rowan meets my eyes, not liking it. But it is the most practical solution, considering Ash lives next door to me.
“It’s late.” I shrug. “What do you think?”
