“He’s lying, Em,” Dash says in the kind of tone he would use if talking to a naive child. Absently, he moves his hand in a quick circular motion above my head, and I immediately begin to feel warmer. “Do you really think a pampered prince knows anything about magical mental illnesses? He’d tell you anything to get you to stay and give him full access to your Griffin Ability. Why can’t you see that?”
“He isn’t lying. He knows far more about my past than anyone else I’ve come across in this world. He’s already proved it to me. He’s my best chance for saving Mom.”
“But … this is just …” Dash struggles for a moment. He tugs at his hair, which I realize is a wig when it comes away in his hand, revealing his own messy hair underneath. “I know you want your mother to be better,” he says, his eyes returning to mine, “but why does her health and happiness have to be solely your responsibility? Is she really—” He cuts himself off, breathing heavily. “I know this is going to make me sound like the bad guy. I don’t want to ask you if she’s worth it, because of course she’s—”
“How can you even think that?” I gasp.
“I’m not! That’s what I’m saying. Of course she’s worth it. She’s your mother, and clearly you love her more than anything else in either world, but …” His eyes plead with me. “Would she want you to do this? Would she want you to throw away your entire life in what is probably a futile attempt to save hers?”
“I’m not throwing away my entire life!” I shout. Then I remember myself. I remember Aurora’s words—My father has eyes and ears everywhere—and I lower my voice again. It’s barely a whisper now. My lips hardly move as I speak. “They might force me into a marriage, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be here forever. My Griffin Ability makes me more powerful than most people in this world. Mom and I will escape one day.”
“Even if that’s possible,” Dash says, “how much evil will they force you to commit before then?”
“I … I …” I don’t have an answer for that.
“Why do you think they want you, Em? You can make their dirty work easier, that’s why.” He takes hold of my shoulders and gives me a small shake. “These people are not good. Surely you know the kinds of things they’re going to make you do?”
I pull myself free of his grasp. “You’re wrong. Roarke isn’t like that, and neither is Aurora.” But the king is, a silent voice reminds me. That scene in the king’s office—the scene I keep pushing out of my thoughts—appears abruptly at the front of my mind. The king with his hand clenching around the air, and that man’s head ripping right off his—
I blink and wince and look away.
“Really?” Dash says. “They’re not like that?”
I can tell without meeting his eyes that he knows I’m lying. I breathe in a shuddering breath. “I saw … something.” I blink again and shake my head, trying to force the memory away. I focus on Dash’s green eyes again, knowing there’s no point in trying to convince him with lies I barely believe myself. There’s no point in anything but the truth. “What other choice did I have, Dash?” My voice is a desperate whisper now, having lost its defensive edge. “These are the only people who can help me.”
“You could have trusted us! Me and everyone else at the oasis. We want to help you, Em. We’ve done nothing except try to help you since you got to this world, and that wasn’t about to change. I don’t understand why you’d just turn your back on all of that and—”
“That’s the point, Dash! That’s why I had to leave.”
He pauses, his eyebrows climbing higher. “Is that supposed to make sense?”
“You and your friends have done nothing but try to help me, and it almost got you killed. You were a glass statue. Remember that? You and Violet came so close to dying. Dying, Dash!” My voice rises as my chest tightens at the memory of that terrifying day.
“Yeah, but we didn’t. It wasn’t such a big deal.”
“Of course it was a big deal! You almost died because you tried to help me. And Chelsea and Georgia actually were dead, and they would have stayed that way if my Griffin Ability hadn’t made a convenient appearance. So after all that, I decided I didn’t want anyone else to be put at risk because of me and my mother.”
“Em—”
“Yes, I had everything I could have wanted at the oasis. It’s beautiful, it’s safe, the people are amazing. But if I’d stayed there, someone would have ended up hurt or dead because they tried to help me. This is my problem. She’s my mother. If there’s a price involved in returning her to normal, I’m the one who should pay it. No one else.”
Dash is silent for too long before he says, “It’s too late for that.”
I blink, feeling cold again despite Dash’s warmth-producing spell still surrounding me. “What do you mean?”
He shakes his head and looks away. “This … this isn’t the way I wanted to tell you. I wanted to get you far away from here first. Back to the oasis.”
“Before you tell me what?” I step closer and wrap one cold hand around his arm. “Tell me what, Dash? What happened?”
“Chelsea and Georgia …” He closes his eyes and presses his lips together before continuing. “They both … died.”
I drop my hand from his arm as quickly as if his skin just burned me. “What?”
“It happened about two days after the glass incident with Ada.”
“But … they can’t be dead. My Griffin Ability brought them back to life.”
“They were human, Em,” he says gently. “Your Griffin Ability may have worked on them, but their bodies couldn’t handle the magic. In the end, it killed them.”
“But … are you sure they were human? I mean, she’s my mother’s sister, and my mother’s a faerie. And what about all the herbal remedies Chelsea makes? I thought maybe … maybe those were actually magical.”
Dash offers no explanations; he merely shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, Em.”
“They … they’re really dead?” I whisper. “My magic killed them. I thought it saved them, but it killed them.”
“Em—”
“I killed my own family.”
“It wasn’t you who killed them,” Dash says, his voice suddenly fierce. “Ada did, with her horrible glass magic. She shattered them into thousands of pieces. You did what you could to save them, but it wasn’t enough. They were doomed from the moment she first touched them.”
My legs can’t hold me up. I crumple onto the ground, not giving a second’s thought to the expensive dress I’m probably ruining. Quick, shallow breaths consume me as I stare unseeingly into the garden. Dash is still speaking, but I can’t hear him anymore. I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to this. Chelsea and Georgia didn’t love me, and I didn’t love them; I can’t suddenly pretend otherwise just because they’re dead. But they were family. They took me in, even though they constantly made it clear what a burden I was to them. And now they’re dead, and I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to feel aside from guilty.
“I never wanted any of this,” I manage to whisper. I cover my face with my hands, wishing I could blot out this other world and its magic that’s sent my life spinning so completely out of my control. “Can’t someone just take it all away? Please. I don’t want this magic. I don’t want a Griffin Ability. I don’t want to marry a prince. I just want to go back to that simple life Mom and I had before magic made her crazy and everything started to fall apart.”
I feel Dash’s arm on my shoulder and sense him crouching beside me. “I wish I could—”
“Emerson?”
I suck in a breath at the sound of Roarke’s voice. Slowly, I lower my hands and watch him descend the stairs.
“What’s going on? Why are you on the ground?”
Dash rises to face him.
“You,” Roarke says slowly, recognition in his eyes. “Well now.” His gaze moves to me as his expression becomes unreadable. “Isn’t this an interesting situation.”
Twelve
In less than a minute, I find myself back inside the warmth of the palace in a small sitting room somewhere near the ballroom. Despite the turmoil of emotions overwhelming me, I didn’t dare disobey Roarke when he uttered “Follow me” in a tone icier than the winter air. Dash hesitated, but he soon caught up to the two of us. Back in the ballroom, no one stopped the prince or his betrothed. No one even looked our way. I suspect Roarke’s magic was responsible for that.
The door of the sitting room swings shut of its own accord. Flames spring to life in the fireplace. “What is he doing here?” Roarke demands immediately, gesturing at Dash without looking at him.
“I … I don’t …” I run my hands over my face, trying to focus on Roarke’s words and seeing only Chelsea and Georgia’s lifeless eyes. Their cold bodies. Alone in their beds in their little Stanmeade house. I blink and look into the crackling flames dancing in the fireplace, hoping to sear the bright, warm image into my mind. “I don’t know,” I say finally, turning away from the fire. “I was as shocked as you are to see him here. This thing is still attached to me—” I touch the coin-sized piece of metal behind my ear “—so no magic should have been able to locate me.”
Roarke crosses the room. His fingers wrap around Dash’s arm. “Where are your guardian markings?”
Dash tugs his arm away, then lets out a short laugh. “There’s this thing girls use. It’s called concealer. Works pretty well for covering—”
“And how did you get into my palace?”
Dash takes his time folding his arms over his chest before squarely facing Roarke. “Your mother decided to outsource the design of Em’s dress for tonight. When one of your clothes casters came to pick it up, I made sure I was there, ready to take his place. His transport brought me back here. It was all remarkably easy, in fact.”
“And how did you know Emerson was here in the first place?”
“An educated guess plus a process of elimination. I figured it was either you, the Seelies or the Guild who got hold of her. I asked around, and the Guild and the Seelies still seemed to be under the impression Em was either dead or missing. You know, since the incident at the cliff.” Dash shrugs. “Therefore it had to be you guys.”
“So you told your superiors all about your suspicions, and they rewarded you by letting you sneak your way into my home and poke your unwelcome nose around? Doubtful. You don’t seem nearly high up enough in the Guild ranks to be trusted with a task as important as retrieving a dangerous and powerful Griffin Gifted faerie like Emerson.”
Dash’s gaze narrows slightly. “I’m not here on behalf of the Guild.”
“Ah.” Roarke nods. “I had a feeling it might be something along those lines.” He walks to the dresser on the other side of the room and opens a drawer. “You and Emerson seemed to be getting very cozy when Aurora and I found the two of you together in her old bedroom.” He closes the drawer and turns to face us again. “After she escaped the Guild. When you—a guardian—shouldn’t have known anything about her whereabouts.” He shakes his head and lets out a quiet laugh. “A traitor to your own kind, I see. How disappointing.”
Dash’s expression darkens. “Not really. I just happen to disagree with tagging, tracking and imprisoning Griffin Gifted.”
“And do you have a tag on you, guardian boy? So that someone can summon you or determine your location?”
“I told you I’m not here on behalf of the Guild, so why would I be stupid enough to let someone tag me?”
“Good.” Roarke moves toward Dash. “But just in case …” His hand sweeps up and slaps against the side of Dash’s neck.
Almost too fast to see, Dash grabs Roarke’s arm and twists it, spinning the prince around and trapping his arm behind his back. “What did you just do?” Dash hisses. The sound of a sizzle rushes through the air, and with a yelp, Dash shoves Roarke away from him. “What the—”
Roarke straightens, rolls his shoulders, and adjusts the collar of his jacket. “I don’t appreciate being manhandled.”
Dash feels the side of his neck. “What is this?” As his hand moves away, I see a small circle of metal just like the one behind my ear.
“A precaution, that’s all,” Roarke says.
“How dare you—”
“You sneak into my home, and you want to know how I dare to—”
“Stop!” I shout. My Griffin Ability isn’t ready to issue a magical command yet, but my cry is enough to make both Roarke and Dash pause and look my way. “Just … just stop.” My voice wavers. “My aunt and cousin are dead, and the two of you are acting like petty children.”
A frown tugs at Roarke’s eyebrows downward. “Your aunt and cousin? The ones you lived with in the non-magic world?”
I look back into the fire as I nod. “Dash told me. Outside. That’s why I was sitting on the ground. I was … I just can’t believe it.”
“These are the people you didn’t particularly care for?” Roarke asks, his tone not unkind, merely curious. “The ones who treated you poorly since you first moved in with them?”
I nod. “But they were still family. Well—I don’t know what they were. Mom and Chelsea were sisters, but Mom’s a faerie and Chelsea was human, so … they can’t have been sisters? I don’t know. I don’t understand.” I press my fingers to my temples again and squeeze my eyes shut. “But I lived with them. For years. I thought they were family, and now they’re just gone.”
I hear Roarke’s quiet footsteps moving closer before he places one hand carefully against the small of my back. “I’m sorry, Emerson. I can’t imagine what that feels like. But I can promise you this: you’re about to get an entirely new family. And though it may not be obvious from the outside, we do care about each other. We’ll care for you too. You’ll be one of us, and you’ll finally belong somewhere. You and your mother.”
Across the room, Dash snorts and mutters something under his breath. I almost do the same, because of course Roarke’s true motive has nothing to do with a desire to give me a new family and a place to belong. He wants my Griffin Ability. But perhaps there’s more to it than that. Perhaps he really does want this union to work out. Perhaps he does plan to care for me for the rest of our lives.
“You’ll stay, of course,” Roarke says to Dash. “For the ceremony. You’re Emerson’s friend. I’m sure she’ll want you to be here.”
“Your ceremony is more than two weeks away,” Dash says before I can voice my own opinion. “I can’t stay here for that long. I have a job, remember?”
“You also have a desire to stop this union,” Roarke points out. “Which means that if I let you leave, you’ll tell the Guild exactly what’s happening, and they’ll attempt to put a halt to our plans and retrieve Emerson. Or kill her.”
“Dash wouldn’t tell—”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Roarke says to me. “If you want this union to happen, then we can’t take the risk of the Guild getting involved.”
“The Guild will wonder where I am,” Dash says.
“Let them wonder then. They don’t know you’re here.”
Dash exhales slowly, his bright eyes never leaving Roarke. “I know this doesn’t matter to you, but I have important cases—”
“You should have considered that before you broke into my home,” Roarke says.
“Fine then.” Dash forces his fists behind his back and gives Roarke the most obviously fake smile I’ve ever seen. “Thank you so much for the invitation, Your Royal Highness. I’d be delighted to stay here and attend your union ceremony.”
Roarke nods. “Good. Just make sure your wrist markings remain covered. I can’t guarantee your safety if my father discovers what you are.”
“Certainly. And I’ll keep my lips zipped and ask no questions about any of the laws you Unseelies have broken lately, or about, say, that colorless shadowy place I woke up in after you abducted Em and me.”
“Perfect. See to it that you don’t forget that promise,” Roarke adds in a threatening tone.
“So … is Dash a guest?” I ask. “Or a prisoner?”
Roarke looks at me. “Would you like me to make him a prisoner?”
“Of course not.”
“Then he is our guest.” He moves closer and tucks a stray curl of hair behind my ear. “I only want to make you happy, Emerson. You’ve received some shocking news this evening, and I’m sure it will be a comfort to have your friend here.”
My frown deepens. “But you don’t trust him and you don’t want him to leave. So why would you let him wander freely around your palace?”
“Don’t worry, he’ll be watched wherever he goes. If he steps out of line, I’ll make sure the Guild finds out that he knows far more about the Griffin rebels than he’s supposed to. I doubt he’ll be able to keep his job after that.” He looks at Dash. “Sound fair?”
Dash tips his head in the slightest of nods. “Perfectly fair, since I plan to be on my very best behavior, Your Regal Princely-ness.”
A muscle in Roarke’s jaw twitches, but, fortunately, he decides not to retaliate. “More importantly, my dear Emerson,” he continues, turning back to me, “I’d like to show you that I care about your happiness. If that means treating your guardian friend as a guest instead of a prisoner, then I’ll do it.”
I still don’t know whether to believe him, but I guess I’ll find out in the coming days. “Okay,” I say warily. “Thank you.”
“Let’s return to the ball now. Push your sorrow aside, my love, and join in the merriment. You’ll soon feel better.”
I doubt that’s true, but I also doubt I have a choice. I don’t think my request to leave the party, climb into bed, and pull the covers over my head would go down well. So I follow Roarke out of the room and back toward the party. I breathe in deeply and press my lips together to keep them from shuddering. I take the first drink that’s offered to me and down it in one go, hoping the contents are enough to dull my senses for the rest of the night.