Lord of Shadows The Dark Artifices 2

Cristina looked down. “I can’t say.”

“Let me help you,” Emma said. “You’re always so strong for everyone else. Let me be strong for you.”

There was a knock on the door. They both looked up in surprise. Mark, Emma thought. There was something about the look on Cristina’s face. It must be Mark.

But it was Kieran.

Emma froze in surprise. Though she’d grown somewhat used to Kieran being around, he still made the fine hairs on Emma’s arms rise with tension. It wasn’t that she blamed him, specifically, for the injuries she’d suffered at Iarlath’s hands. But the sight of him still brought it back to her, all of it: the hot sun, the sound of the whip, the copper scent of blood.

It was true that he looked enormously different now. His black hair was a little wilder, more untidy, but otherwise he cut an incongruously human figure in his jeans. The wild hair hid the tops of his pointed ears, though his black and silver eyes were still startling.

He gave a small, courtly bow. “My ladies.”

Cristina looked puzzled. Clearly she hadn’t expected this visit either.

“I came to speak with Cristina, if she will permit it,” Kieran added.

“Go ahead, then,” Emma said. “Speak.”

“I think he wishes to speak to me alone,” said Cristina, in a whisper.

“Yes,” said Kieran. “That is my request.”

Cristina looked at Emma. “I’ll see you in the morning, then?”

Humph, Emma thought. She’d missed Cristina, and now a brash faerie princeling was kicking her out of her friend’s room. Kieran barely spared her a glance as she climbed off the bed and headed to the door.

As she passed Kieran on her way out, Emma paused, her shoulder almost touching his. “If you do anything to hurt or upset her,” she said, in a voice low enough that she doubted Cristina could hear it, “I will pull off your ears and turn them into lock picks. Get it?”

Kieran glanced at her with his night-sky eyes, unreadable as clouds. “No,” he said.

“Let me spell it out,” Emma said sharply. “I love her. Don’t mess around with her.”

Kieran put his long, delicate hands in his pockets. He looked absolutely unnatural in his modern clothes. It was like seeing Alexander the Great in a biker jacket and leather pants. “She is easy to love.”

Emma looked at him in surprise. It hadn’t been what she’d expected him to say at all. Easy to love. Nene had behaved as if the concept was bizarre. But then what did the Fair Folk know about love, anyway?

*   *   *

“Would you like to sit down?” Cristina inquired. Then she wondered if she was turning into her mother, who had always claimed that the first thing one did with a guest was offer them a seat. Even if they are a murderer? Cristina had asked. Yes, even murderers, her mother had insisted. If you didn’t want to offer a murderer a seat, you shouldn’t have invited him in the first place.

“No,” Kieran said. He moved across the room, hands in his pockets, his body language restless. Not unlike Mark’s, Cristina thought. They both moved as if they had energy trapped beneath their skin. She wondered what it would be like to contain so much movement, and yet be forced to stay still.

“My lady,” he said. “Because of what I swore to you in the Seelie Court, there is a bond between us. I think you have felt its force.”

Cristina nodded. It wasn’t the enchanted bond she had with Mark. But it was there anyway, a shimmering energy when they danced, when they spoke.

“I think that force can help us do something together I could not do alone.” Kieran came closer to the bed, drawing his hand out of his pocket. Something glimmered in his palm. He held it out to Cristina, and she saw the acorn there that Mark had used earlier, to summon Gwyn. It looked slightly dented, but it was whole, as if it had been sealed back together after breaking open.

“You want to summon Gwyn again?” Cristina shook her head. Her hair fell completely out of its unfastened braid, spilling down her back. She saw Kieran glance at it. “No. He won’t interfere again. You want to speak to someone else in Faerie. Your brother?”

“As I thought.” He inclined his head slightly. “You guess my intentions exactly.”

“And you can do it? The acorn won’t just call Gwyn?”

“The magic is a fairly simple one. Remember, you are not of the blood than can cast spells, but I am. It should bring a Projection of my brother to us. I will ask him of our father’s plans. I shall ask him as well if he can stop the Riders.”

Cristina was astonished. “Can anyone stop the Riders?”

“They are servants of the Court, and under its command.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Cristina asked.

“Because to summon my brother, I must reach out with my mind into Faerie,” said Kieran. “And it would be safer, should I wish to keep my mind intact, for me to have a connection here in the world. Something—someone—to keep me anchored while I seek my brother.”