“The ghost followed me home after I’d packed up some of my grandmother’s personal things. I think I have it.”
“Do you have it here?”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Return it to my father and get my soul back, hopefully.”
She looked at him as if trying to work out if he was lying. “How do I know you aren’t trying to trick me? Isn’t that what Greys do?”
“A Grey will do anything to get back to Annwyn and stop the fading of looks and power. I didn’t fight Shea because if I did I would have weakened myself and I am already weaker than most Greys because I am half-human. I want my soul back. I want you. I love you.” He wanted to reach for her, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle her reaction if she pulled away again. While he could glamour her into helping, he didn’t want to do that either. He was trying his hardest to prove to her he was human, but it felt like everything he wanted was slipping through his fingers and he couldn’t stop it. He waited for the rejection. For the denial of affection.
She took a breath. “I love you too.” Then she walked through the kitchen to her handbag and pulled out an iron bolt and a silver compact. She placed them on the kitchen table next to the broken mirror. “When I realized this might be fairy I put it in my bag next to iron to try and keep it safe. I wanted to give it to you last night but you weren’t in any state to do anything.” Her cheeks colored as if remembering the rest of the details from last night.
When he got back it had felt like he hadn’t slept for three days, that and the loss of his soul and the lack of connection to Annwyn had taken a toll. But Lydia made him feel alive.
“It’s okay. I didn’t know how to ask if you had it. I suspected it must have been something of your grandmother’s.”
“It was a gift, but I think the man was just hiding it here.” She touched the silver case. “Will that Grey be in there, in the mirror?”
“I don’t know.” They both looked at the compact as if expecting Shea to burst out at any moment. Nothing happened. He needed to know if the compact was what he was searching for. “Can I?”
She nodded.
His fingers brushed the silver casing and he got nothing from it. The metal told him nothing of the mirror’s past. He bit back his frustration. How was he supposed to find the damn Window when he couldn’t see what an object was?
“Well?” Lydia raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t know.” The compact was a lump of dead metal in his hands. Then he remembered what Shea had said. A fairy couldn’t sense the Window. Because he was a soulless fairy at the moment it felt like a normal mirror. But the silver case was decorated in a vine-like pattern which was very Annwyn. He opened the catch. The mirror was broken into three, the same as the Counter-Window. Pressed against the silvered glass was Shea. Blue blood stained the cracks as if the mirror was weeping.
“Is that it?” Lydia stepped closer. “Is that… ?”
He let out a slow breath, then shut the compact. There would be no funeral games for Shea in Annwyn. But he’d also been saved the slow death of a Grey.
“It is the Window,” a voice said behind Caspian.
Caspian turned. His father stood in the kitchen. His elegant clothing too bold and bright for the mortal world. He’d heard the call for the end of the deal and crossed the veil to be here.
Felan looked at Caspian, then Lydia. “I’m sorry for this intrusion. I trust you haven’t been harmed?” Felan inclined his head and smiled.
Caspian waited for Lydia to glide toward his father and melt into his arms. But she didn’t move. She was immune to Felan’s charm, that or he wasn’t turning it up to full volume.
“I’m fine…” Her gaze flicked over the Prince’s clothing. “Sir.”
The Prince turned his attention to Caspian. “Thank you.” He held out his hand.
Caspian handed over the compact. The Prince opened it, nodded, and closed it. Then he gathered up the broken pieces from the table.
“Well played, son, although I wished you hadn’t destroyed it.” Felan slipped the pieces into a pocket in his silvery blue coat. The collar was turned up, sharp points jutting under his jaw. With careful movements he pulled the ring off his finger. “This belongs to you.”
“That simple?”
“That simple.” He almost handed Caspian the ring. But closed his hand at the last moment. “I ask you again, do you wish to remain in the mortal world?”
That would be twice he’d been asked. The first time he’d known the answer. Caspian looked at Lydia. She loved him. He had a chance at the life he’d always wanted. The pause stretched out. Felan raised his eyebrows as if he’d won.
Caspian smiled. “I choose to remain.”
Felan gave a small nod, his lips curved up at the corners. “Very well. The next time I ask, you’ll be drawing your last breath.”
A shiver raced down Caspian’s spine. Would he be able to refuse when death was imminent?
The Prince handed over the silver ring with the green and red stone that held his soul and all of his humanity. As soon as it was in his hand there was a change. Nothing he could name directly, but from the ring he received an impression of love and pride. He smiled, his smile, without the fairy edge. “Thank you.”
Caspian put the ring on, not surprised that it fit perfectly.
“You don’t have to wear the ring.”
“I want to.” It would be a reminder of what he’d almost lost. The red line that had split the stone like a cat’s pupil was gone. But it would also remind him that his father had stayed away out of love, not because he was an unwanted changeling.
Felan nodded to Lydia, then to Caspian. “I shall leave you. I have other business to attend at Court.” A flicker of anxiety crossed his face but was quickly masked.
No doubt news of Shea’s death would rock the Court. Those who aligned with him and the Queen would rapidly shift their game. Whatever happened Felan was going to have to make some dangerous calls to save Annwyn. Caspian didn’t envy him at all. For all the privilege, wealth, and status, it wasn’t worth the cost.
“Good luck.” He went to shake his father’s hand, but Felan pulled him into an embrace. They might scheme and carry on as if life was one long party, but fairies did feel and weren’t as cold as he’d thought. He’d learned that in the short time he’d been truly fairy.
Felan drew away. “The family reunion is over. Next time I hope we meet under better circumstances.” Then he turned to leave.
“Wait, sir.” Lydia took a step after him. She should be letting him leave. This man, this fairy, was dangerous and powerful and Caspian’s father. Something she was still trying to grasp, but he was about to walk away with her grandmother’s compact, something her gran had treasured and kept safe for years.
The fairy turned to look at her. His expression was one of puzzlement, as if he didn’t expect to be questioned. There was a similarity between Caspian and the fairy. The eyes. They were the same ice green.
“I just want to know about the mirror and the man who gave it to Gran. I don’t want it back.” She rushed on. This was a bad idea; she shouldn’t have asked. She half-expected anger or some reaction like she had from the Grey, or the sense of menace from the Hunter.
Instead he nodded and drew the compact out of his coat and handed it to Caspian. “Answer her question. I’d like to know too.”
As soon as Caspian’s finger’s touched the mirror he smiled. “A fairy gave her the mirror, he loved being the center of attention at her parties, but he gave her the mirror to hide it as well as to thank her. They were more than friends.”
She’d been right. The singer had been Gran’s lover. Go Gran.
Felan pressed his lips together. “Which fairy?”