Fated Crown by Eva Chase
Chapter Three
Whitt
Iwas the obvious choice for this particular mission. As Sylas’s spymaster, my skills are naturally inclined toward stealth and subtlety. And while others might have the same qualifications, I wouldn’t trust anyone outside our inner circle to treat Talia’s brother with the necessary care.
Like, for example, the lug of a winter fae arch-lord who has insisted on coming along to “supervise” my methods.
Arch-Lord Uzziah, whose dour-sounding name fits his appearance and his personality to a T, hasn’t stopped frowning since he met me near the border to travel to the fringelands. He seems to be taking his part in this venture as a personal affront, even though he and his colleagues were the ones who insisted on him joining me. About half a dozen times already, I’ve bitten my tongue against reminding him that if it were up to me, I’d be here alone.
As we come up on the house we’ve determined Jamie lives in, cloaked in both our magic and the shadows of very early morning, Uzziah’s frown pulls into a deeper grimace. He draws in a snort of a breath and shakes his head. “How these creatures can live with all this filth around them, I’ll never know. Dulled minds, the lot of them.”
And this man works alongside Talia’s soul-twined mate. I restrain a shudder provoked much more by him than our surroundings and manage to speak politically if not totally politely. “And yet the Heart deigned to bless at least one of these ‘creatures’ with the power to heal all our kind. It’s almost as if it thinks they’re owed some respect.”
Uzziah shuts up, but his glower holds plenty of words he simply isn’t saying out loud, none of them particularly polite either. When we come to a stop in front of the bungalow, rather charming as human structures go with its blue-trimmed white walls and darker roof, he sighs. “So then, what’s your plan from here?”
“Your people identified the specific bedroom the boy uses.” I amble across the lawn to the side of the house, dodging a coiled hose, and stop by a window near the back. It’s closed, a hum in the air suggesting some sort of mechanical cooling system is running inside to take the edge off the late spring heat, but that isn’t a problem. “I can manipulate the glass and go in that way. Then it’ll be a simple matter of drawing a bit of blood. I’ll only need a few minutes.”
The winter arch-lord’s bushy eyebrows draw together. “I’ll be coming in with you.”
I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. “You’ll be able to see just fine through the window. The room itself is rather small.”
He studies me as if he assumes I’m making excuses to hide some nefarious plot rather than pointing out a simple practicality. “I’d prefer to have as clear a view as possible of the proceedings.”
“Fine. Just stay well back and give me plenty of space to work.”
I roll the true name for glass off my tongue, focusing on the pane in front of me. At my urging, the material melts away, leaving an empty frame large enough for me to clamber through. Uzziah follows, huffing a bit as if it’s a strain. Thank the Heart our spells cover all the sounds we make as well as hiding us from sight.
The boy’s room is small, just a narrow bed in one corner, a tiny side table next to its headboard and a compact desk tucked up against its foot. There isn’t enough space to place any furniture against the opposite wall, which has pictures and posters tacked all over it. The closet door next to the window hangs ajar, a few rumpled shirts poking out from a heap on the floor inside. The artificially cool air trickles past us toward the now-open window.
The boy himself is lying on the bed, the sheet tangled around his slim frame. His face is buried in the crook of his arm against his pillow, but I can make out enough of it to note bits of family resemblance between him and Talia. I’m familiar enough with her to taste a hint of their connection in the human scent lacing the room too.
Ignoring my instructions, Uzziah stays right next to me. I motion him back toward the closet, but instead he steps around me to stand by the side table. Well, at least he’s a little more out of the way there.
I slide a vial—bronze rather than glass, to avoid concerns of breakage—from my pocket and crouch next to the bed. Jamie’s nearest arm sprawls across the mattress almost to the edge of the bed. I whisper a few words to encourage his mind into a deeper sleep and ease his hand just a little farther so it extends out into the air.
Holding the vial beneath his wrist, I compel my magic to open a tiny cut to the vein closest to the surface. A trickle of blood spills into the vial. When I’ve gathered a couple of teaspoons’ worth, enough to cure an entire pack of the full moon curse, I direct the flesh and skin to close again.
My efforts will leave a faint mark, but one so slight he’s unlikely to notice it. If he does, he shouldn’t think it anything more than a small blemish of the sort humans seem to produce at random.
I nudge his hand back onto the mattress and straighten up. Once I’ve stoppered the vial, I tuck it away. Uzziah stays where he is with his arms crossed, scrutinizing my every move. I raise my eyebrows at him. “Any concerns?”
He waves his hand dismissively, but he only takes one step toward me before he pauses, looking at the boy again. “It’s a pity our own cure can’t be harvested so easily.”
“You have Talia at your beck and call whenever your curse strikes another victim,” I point out. “We Seelie all face ours at the exact same time.”
He doesn’t respond to that. His gaze hasn’t shifted from Jamie. Something in his expression has changed, a calculating glint breaking through the dour gloom.
Apprehension ripples through me. I’ve already tensed before he even speaks.
He gestures to the boy and then finally meets my gaze. “We’re here now. It’s hardly a full test unless we can try it on both sides of the border. We may as well just take him and be done with it.”
Somehow I had enough faith, however slim, in the bird-brained Unseelie to be surprised by his proposal. “We gave our word to Talia that we’d make this first attempt without disturbing her brother,” I say, not bothering to smooth out the sharpness that’s crept into my voice.
“What of it? It wasn’t an official vow—there’ll be no harm done in changing our minds now that we’ve seen how simple the prospect would be.”
No harm done? After all the mite’s done for his people and the way the Heart bound her to one of his closest colleagues, that’s how much respect he has for Talia? The casualness of his tone sets my teeth on edge.
But before I can come up with a suitable retort, he’s already stepping closer to the bed, ready to scoop the boy right up over his shoulder from the looks of things. With a jolt through my nerves, I push in front of him, blocking his way. “We follow the plan agreed to on between all the arch-lords. If you want to argue for a change of course, do it in front of them.”
Uzziah glares at me. His tone turns biting. “I think you’re forgetting the difference between our stations, mongrel. You don’t give orders to an arch-lord.”
I glare right back at him. “No, but I follow the orders I got from my own. And Arch-Lord Sylas expects me to return with only this sample of blood, not the whole boy.”
“I’m not sure his colleagues would have the same issue. You all are too wrapped up in that dust-destined woman’s apparent charms to think clearly.” His lip curls with a sneer, and he motions for me to move aside. “Get out of my way. I have the authority here, and I say we bring him before there’s any more need for debate.”
I stand my ground, my legs locking. “I say no. We got what we came for. The day is on the verge of breaking. Let’s leave as we were meant to, and I’ll see no need to mention to anyone that you attempted to deviate from our agreement.”
It isn’t a lie. I might not deem it strictly necessary, but naturally that doesn’t mean I won’t tell Sylas anyway.
Whether Uzziah detects the subterfuge in my statement or simply doesn’t care, he attempts to shove me aside. Uneasiness twangs through me at the thought of scuffling with an arch-lord we’ve so recently negotiated a hard-won peace with, but I will not let down both my lord and my love in one swoop for this mangy raven’s self-interest. He needs to see this attempt is getting him nowhere.
Without hesitation, I shove him back, as hard as I can. His shoulders thump into the wall, the sound muffled by the spell on us but not totally muted. On the bed, Jamie stirs.
The winter arch-lord’s hostile gaze shoots daggers at me, as if it’s my fault we might have woken him.
“Attempt to touch him again,” I warn in a low, menacing voice, “and I won’t hesitate to throw you right through the wall. Just try me.”
Fury twists the other man’s features, but I’m taller and stronger than he is, and he doesn’t want this coming to a full fight besides. The temptation was all in making an easy theft of the boy. He doesn’t want to leave traces of our presence here any more than I do, though I’m willing to risk it to ensure Talia’s brother stays where he belongs.
Never before have I been so glad of the castle we’re constructing with Corwin. Imagine if Talia had to keep living fully on the winter side for weeks at a time, subjected to pricks like this.
“I’m going to remember your insolence,” Uzziah hisses at me.
I curl back my lips, letting my wolfish fangs emerge. “I’m counting on that.” It’s only because he’s an arch-lord that I don’t add “you feather-headed asshole” on the end.
I stay between him and the bed as we head to the window. The dawn light is just touching the sky, turning it from deep blue to hazy gray. Outside, Uzziah mutters to himself as I seal the glass. His words are inaudible, but his tone is deeply peeved.
He’s lucky I care enough about him and his colleagues keeping a somewhat favorable opinion of my lord that I don’t show him just how peeved I am.
We make our way back to the spot in the nearby park that connects to the Mists. Uzziah doesn’t speak the entire journey back in the swift carriage. I’m content to listen to the warble of the passing wind, but my stomach rests heavy in my abdomen.
I can’t think of any better way I could have handled that situation, but I’m not convinced the way I did was actually good either.
When we reach Hearth-by-the-Heart, it’s mid-afternoon by our time, though only a few hours have passed since we left the human world. Our days rarely match up with the world beyond the Mists. One of Uzziah’s coterie members along with a couple sent by the other Unseelie arch-lords are waiting outside the castle to oversee the actual administration of Jamie’s blood. Uzziah himself marches off across the border without more than a brusque nod toward Sylas, who came out to meet us.
I hand the vial over to August, and he hurries off to the kitchen where he’s been preparing the usual tonic from Talia’s blood for the many summer fae we won’t be experimenting on tonight. Astrid goes with him, keeping a wary eye on the winter fae who are following too. I want nothing more than to flop onto a comfortable sofa or perhaps throw back a gulp of good absinthe, but I know Sylas deserves a full reporting first.
He takes in my expression and motions for us to go inside as well—up to his study. Once the door is closed and he’s taken his chair behind his desk, he fixes his impervious gaze on me. It used to sometimes irritate me how unshakeable he always seems, but lately I’ve found myself increasingly appreciating that quality of his.
“What happened?” he asks.
I pace the length of the room, my claws itching in my fingertips at the memory. “The blasted raven arch-lord tried to steal the entire boy away after all. He wasn’t satisfied with taking a little blood. Figured his people should get to make their own experiment.”
Sylas’s eyes flash. A growl comes into his voice. “But clearly you prevented him.”
“Yes. I had to get rather… forceful about it. He wasn’t pleased.” I turn to face my brother, grimacing. “I may have created more trouble for our relations with the winter realm.”
“I’ll deal with that trouble if it comes up,” Sylas replies. “I wouldn’t have had you do anything else. They’d better not interfere with our test tonight.”
A small smile crosses my lips. “I suspect between August and Astrid, the feathered fae down there don’t stand a chance.”
“Indeed. But we’ll want to remain on guard.” Sylas rubs his jaw, his expression going momentarily pensive, and then focuses on me again. “In all other respects, the task went smoothly?”
I nod. “We didn’t disturb Jamie or anyone else around. He should have no idea he was ever visited or that any part of him was taken.” As long as we don’t have to go back and retrieve the entire young man after all. My mouth sours at the thought.
But if it turns out Talia’s brother could be the final piece in the puzzle of solving the curse, how could we refuse to protect our people?
I can see the same inner struggle playing out in Sylas. Before he can say anything else, Talia bursts into the room, her expression pinched. I avert my eyes from the marks on her arm, as gentle as I know August is in his blood-taking.
“Did it go all right?” she asked. “Is Jamie okay?”
“Everything’s fine, mighty one,” I say, moving to her and ruffling the waves of her hair with its new mix of purple and pink. “Your brother slept through the entire thing.”
I slip my arm around her slim shoulders, wishing I could sweep her up in an embrace so complete it’d shield her from all the horrible decisions that might lie ahead of us. “We’ve got hours left before nightfall. Why don’t we get in a few rounds of that driving video game August is so fond of to see if one or the other of us can’t get good enough to beat him next time.”
I’ll do whatever I can to distract both of us from the looming question about to be answered—and all the others that’ll arise afterward, regardless of the result.
