“Possibly,” Lucien said.
“Like that child needs more power,” Ethan grumbled.
“Quite correct. Signe will already become a powerful sorceress because of her mother. She won’t need any help in that area,” Lucien said, waving his hand.
“It would seem my cousin’s dire need to be praised and revered resulted in his downfall,” Ethan mused.
“Unfortunately. But we all have weak points we need to consider,” Lucien said. “Make sure the two of you know yours. Before others learn to exploit them.”
Ethan and I practiced Unseelie magic under Lucien’s guidance, until we took a break for the evening. Babcia asked me to bring my brother to the dining room, as he hadn’t eaten all day— or anything the previous day, either.
“Arthur, come down to dinner.” I knocked on the door to his bedroom before cautiously opening it. I let out a soft scream that was muffled by my hand as I saw what was inside.
It wasVara.She looked as beautiful and as healthy as ever, perfectly strong, her features delicate and absolutely breathtaking. My chest tightened as I hovered on the verge of tears, happy to see that my friend was alive and well.
But… she looked a littletoobeautiful. Her perfections were off putting. I realized that this wasn’t truly Vara, but how she’d appeared to someone else.
Her form rippled, and I knew… she was an illusion. This wasn’t real.
I looked around the room for who was casting the spell. Arthur was sitting in a chair, tears pouring down his face as he reached out a hand to touch the gorgeous illusion, which did not become solid. His fingers brushed through Vara’s form like she was a ghost.
I stormed through the illusion, and it vanished into smoke. “Arthur, what the hell are you doing?” I yelped. “This isn’t healthy!”
“It’s the only way I’ll get to see her again!” Arthur blurted, leaping up from his seat and angrily kicking his chair back.
“Arty, this kind of magic isforbidden!” I shouted. “We’re not supposed to make illusions of dead people! It’s against fae law!”
“I don’t give a damn about the law,” Arthur snarled.
“There’s areason! We can’t bring back the dead, and you’re torturing yourself like this by making yourself see illusions of her that aren’t there! She can’t talk back to you, Arty! She can’t touch you, can’t even look at you!”
“But I can look at her,” he demanded. “It’s all I long for, sis.”
“And what happens when your illusions of Vara start to take over your mind? What happens when you’ve completely lost it, because you can’t stand to be without her?” I pressed.
“I’m already there,” Arthur snapped. “You think thatthiswill make me crazy? I died with her, Emma. The only difference is my body’s still walking around. In my soul and in my heart, I was done for the day we buried her. You might as well let me go, too, for I have no desire to remain in this world any longer.”
Arthur stomped past me. I was standing in the same spot the illusion had been with a lump in my throat.
Lucien was right. This griefwasdriving my brother mad.
I wasn’t so sure we hadn’t lost him for good.
Chapter Seven
Ethan
There was the sound of arguing coming from the kitchen when I came back from my usual perimeter sweep around the estate one April morning.
I’d become somewhat obsessive over scouting the area daily since Vara had passed. Paranoid, perhaps, would be a better word. We couldn’t afford to be discovered here, and if we were, I wanted us to know about it before Droga could launch any surprise attacks. Things had been quiet.
Seemed they were no longer. The voices increased in intensity as I strode down the hallway. I caught a glimpse through an open door. Arthur was arguing with Finlay, seemingly in a fit. Emma stood between them, trying to calm them down, while her grandfather loomed off at a distance, leaning over his cane and suckling at his pipe.
Well, he didn’t seem too disturbed, so it couldn’t be that bad. But nothing rattled the old shifter besides. The estate could come crumbling down around his ears, and Vocheck Ignacy would consider it any other Tuesday. He wasn’t a good gauge for determining a crisis.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I entered the kitchen, preferring to get straight to the point. Emma had told me her brother was conjuring illusions of his lost mate. I hoped they weren’t arguing about that again. I knew what Arthur was doing would only make his pain worse, but I didn’t want my wife getting involved. Fixing Arthur’s devastation could not be done. She needed to allow him to do whatever he needed to, to recover from his loss.
However, it seemed they were fighting over another issue entirely.
