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“You keep thinking that he’ll accept that.”
“He has to.”
“Mm. Perhaps. But…” His soft voice trails to a close. There’s something about it. There’s an almost hypnotic lilt to it that I haven’t heard come from Rys before. It’s… beautiful. A lullaby. “You need to be prepared, Leannán.”
Huh?
“What?”
He steps away, nearly dancing on his toes as he moves. I… didn’t even realize that I’d gotten so close to him. Hang on— I don’t even remember getting up. I was sitting on the floor when Rys entered the cell, but I’m definitely on my feet now, only a couple of steps out of his reach.
Okay. That was weird.
I cross to the other side of the cell, watching as he gives me his back. He does something with his hands, almost like he’s drawing a portal in the air. I’ve seen a Seelie do that before. Four lines and some magic and there’s a pathway to somewhere else.
Not in here, though. Within the iron bars of our cell, it should be impossible for him to access any of his power. No glamour, no charms, nothing.
I don’t know what he does, but when he turns back around, his hands aren’t empty any longer. I glance behind him. No portal, but he definitely pulled something out of thin air.
It’s not iron—it can’t be—but the… lantern? It looks like a lantern… the lantern is definitely made of some kind of metal. It’s about six inches tall, three inches wide, and there’s a spark of fire floating inside of it. The fireball could probably nestle inside of my palm if I was dumb enough to try to hold it without its cage.
“How did you do that?” I breathe out. “Where did it come from?”
“Do you want it?”
He’s not going to answer me, is he?
I look at the strange metal box he’s holding out toward me.
“What is it?”
“Faerie fire. It’s a Seelie power.”
Oh. I know about that. It’s just like the curtain of flames that the Seelie guards use to hide behind when they visit Posey. Only I could feel the heat coming off of those flames. Sure, this fire is much smaller, but I’m right here. There’s not even a sizzle.
“Touch it.”
Can Rys read my mind? The thought of palming the fire was one of those fleeting what-if’s, like when you’re up against the edge of a railing and you wonder what if I jump? You’re never going to do it, but you contemplate it anyway.
I had to have heard him wrong.
“Excuse me?”
“The fire. It’s okay. Touch the fire.”
The flame’s not hot, but I’m also not a complete idiot. “Yeah… I don’t think I should do that.”
I can’t explain it, but it happens again. I can’t explain what’s going on, only that I dare a peek up at Rys and I just lose myself in his eyes. They’re like two suns blazing out of his determined face, pushing me to do something as reckless as stick my finger in a flame.
I learned a long time ago that fire’s hot. I’ll only burn if I listen to him. Something tells me, though, that I’m burning up anyway.
“What are you doing to me?”
“What I must. It won’t hurt you. I won’t let it. Touch it. You’ll see. Nothing will happen.”
He… he can be charming, I realize. Maybe he used to be, before his scar and before his imprisonment.
And I thought he was dangerous before. That’s nothing compared to now.
