Christophe took off without waiting to hear what Declan came up with, and he caught up to Gideon just as the Fae was opening another doorway.
“He may come with you, since his sister needs to see that he is safe, according to our agreement,” the Fae said, as if bestowing a favor upon a subject. “I will leave the doorway for him to find.”
Christophe had never wanted anything as badly in his life as he wanted to crush this murdering bastard like the monster he was. Not yet, not yet, not yet. Soon.
The next chamber was like and yet unlike the first. This, too, was woodlands, but it was forest; ancient and resonating with power. No nymphs would dare frolic here. This was for serious magic. Gideon led the way through the chamber, and this time a silver throne twined with living vines held center court. Seated on it, wearing nothing but a filmy gown, Maeve na Feransel kissed Denal as though her life and future depended on it.
Christophe almost wanted to turn away from the intimacy of it, but then he remembered how Denal had come to the Summer Lands.
“Denal,” he called out, careful not to approach the throne. “It’s Christophe. Are you still yourself?”
Denal slowly raised his head, and Christophe saw that the dark blue of his eyes contained something else. Something more. Fae magic. Intertwined with Atlantean.
He was too late.
“I spoke truly and willingly, Christophe. Go home to Atlantis. I have served Maeve as her knight for three Fae years and willingly stay longer still. My duty compels me to honor my promise to her.”
“Duty? What of your duty to Atlantis?”
A wave of sadness passed over Denal’s face. “They don’t need me. Maeve does. I belong here, at least for now.”
Then there was nothing left to say, but for one final thought.
“Be well, my friend,” Christophe said, realizing as he said it that it was truth. Denal was his friend. It had been Christophe who had pushed the rest of the Seven away so he could be alone, nursing his anger and sense of betrayal. If he could finally find love, he could accept other bonds, too. “Be well.”
Denal stood and bowed to Christophe. “And you, my friend.”
As Denal returned to his seat, he sent a message to Christophe on the shared Atlantean mental pathway.
Beware his power, but remember that vanity is his fatal flaw. Maeve tried her best to rescue Fiona, but Gideon is far too powerful for her to oppose right now. She has given her permission to Declan to return home, so his contract in the Summer Lands is fulfilled and he may leave. As princess, she has the power to release him even though it was Gideon who abducted him. She may pay heavily for that, so destroy Gideon if you can.
Christophe nodded.
Understood. Thank you, Denal. Until we meet again.
Gideon was still moving, striding along toward the far wall of the chamber, and Christophe followed. This time, they entered a room that, though filled with trees and flowers, was more like an enormous bedchamber than anything nature had created.
Fiona, dressed in green silk, sat in a miserable, huddled ball in the middle of the bed.
“Now. You have seen her. She is unharmed. Show me how to work the Siren. I know it enthralls shifters on a far larger scale than I have yet done. Whole countries will fall to my will with this at my command.” Gideon’s voice shook with excitement and greed.
Fiona stared at Christophe in shock. “You’re here? You’re really here? All these weeks later?”
“It was illusion, mi amara. I have been here the same length of time, and it has been only hours, not weeks.”
She shook her head, disbelief written plainly on her face. He hated the thought that she’d been alone and afraid, and that she’d believed he hadn’t come for her. Perhaps that he wouldn’t come for her.
Yet another black mark against Gideon.
“She wouldn’t eat or drink while you were unconscious, at least not anything that Maeve herself didn’t give her,” the Fae said sullenly. “You warned her well, Atlantean. But now that I have you and the Siren, Fiona’s resistance shall soon fall, as well.”
Christophe drank in the sight of her. His soul opened up all the way and invited her to be part of him for now and forever. A small stillness in her movements gave him reason to hope she had felt it.
“Willingly spoken, Atlantean. Or else I have a special treat for you.” He clapped his hands and several enthralled shifters, bunched together, carried a heavy object into the room.
“A very special treat, Christophe of Atlantis. Do what I ask, or I’ll put you in the box that I know you love so well.”
Gideon waved his arm, and the shifters moved aside. When the last shifter had cleared his line of sight, something inside Christophe shattered and broke.
Again.
It was the exact box from his childhood. Impossible, but true. He was immediately four years old again, wanting to beg, knowing it would do no good.
Finally begging, anyway, because he was unable to do other.
He clamped his lips together against the howl that threatened to break free and forced his mind to regroup, again. Forced his will to strengthen, again. For Fiona.
Gideon threw his head back and laughed, long and loud.
Christophe vowed to kill him just for that laugh. The rest of his reasons would be merely icing on the cake of his vengeance. That laugh, in the face of his parents’ murder and a little boy’s torture, was judge, jury, and executioner.
“You’re going to die for this,” he said softly.
“I find I must have you climb in the box simply for my amusement,” Gideon replied, a horrible smile spreading across his face. “Now, I think.”
Suddenly, the Fae was standing behind Fiona and holding a silver knife to her throat. “Or I kill her.”
“The mother of your future children?” Christophe was proud his voice didn’t shake or waver.
Gideon shrugged. “I can find another. But you—your pain and terror is so delicious. Just like your parents’ life force, all those years ago. I must have yours. Get in the box.”
Fiona cried out, and a thin trail of blood trickled down her neck. “Don’t do it, Christophe. Don’t let him break you. He’ll kill me anyway. Just get out now. Save yourself.”
Christophe looked at the box, and he looked back at Gideon. And then he smiled. “I’ll climb in your damn box as many times as you like. Or I’ll show you how to work this pretty gem.” He held up the Siren. “I won’t do both, and I won’t do either until you let her go.”
Gideon threw Fiona on the bed. “I don’t care about her. Just show me how to use the jewel. The full power, as you willingly promised, Atlantean.”
“The full power, Fae,” Christophe said. He held the Siren up in the air, calling on Poseidon for aid. He pushed his battered, aching mind to focus harder than it ever had before and pull more power than he had ever channeled.
“Full power,” he shouted. “For Atlantis!”
He pushed. With everything he had and everything he was, he pushed power through the aquamarine and focused every ounce of his own magic and the magic of the gem to do exactly what it had been created to do, but with a little tweak of his own. Christophe did what he had willingly promised to do.
He used the full power of the Siren to enthrall a Fae prince.
Chapter 39
The air swirled with shadows, and suddenly Fiona leapt from the bed and raced across the room to stand between Gideon and Christophe. From the air itself, the shadows wavered and re-formed into the image of Justice’s sword, which she held in arms trembling with its weight.
“Come near him and I’ll kill you myself,” she told the Fae, her voice quiet and deadly. “He is mine and I won’t give him up so easily.”