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Instinctively I hate her, and then feel guilty for it. I settle on being extremely jealous instead. And just a bit intimidated.
Her skin is the same shade as freshly fallen snow, with a rosy flush coloring her high cheekbones. Thick, glossy, golden blonde curls cascade down her back. Of all her features, though, it’s her eyes that are the most striking. Big and wide and expressive, this fae has pale yellow eyes.
Not gold, like Rys’s glowing peepers.
Yellow. Such a pale yellow, in fact, that it’s almost like there’s no pigment there at all. I’ve never seen a color like that before and, okay, it’s kind of creepy.
And that’s when she smiles down at me.
I stand my ground. Because she might be smiling with her lips, but those unblinking eyes are totally sizing me up. I’m betting she’s trying to figure out who I am, what I’m doing here. I’m definitely doing the same thing to her. When the corners of her mouth lift a little higher, I figure she’s doing a much better job than I am.
“Ah, Shadow,” she says lightly. “It’s about time you’ve finally arrived. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I gulp.
Well, that answered my question. A lovely, unique fae wandering around the Fae Queen’s garden who’s been waiting for the Shadow?
It’s Melisandre, isn’t it?
Holy shit.
I should’ve taken my chances with Doctor Gillespie.
It takes me a second to realize that, even worse, she isn’t alone. I was so distracted—first by her unearthly beauty, then by my realization that I’m face to face with my greatest threat—that I don’t notice that, behind her, there are six guards.
They flank her, three on each side. On her left, she has three Dark Fae guards. On her right, three Light Fae guards.
The last one is Rys.
My breath catches in my throat when I recognize him. He’s standing on the queen’s farthest side. Now that, for the first time ever, I’m face to face with more of the fae, I can see that the coloring is pretty universal. The two other Seelie near Rys share the same tawny hair, the same golden eyes, the same bronze tan—just like the Unseelie are pale with dark hair that’s a perfect contrast to their skin. They’re not clones, though; each one has a different face, each one more beautiful than the last.
I could pick Rys out of a line-up of a hundred Seelie fae. Not only do I know him, so I can pick up on the small differences, but there’s one big, honking one staring me in the face.
Or, rather, a mark on his.
He’s got a scar, and not some small, tiny one, either. A slash that starts near the corner of his eye, crossing the height of his cheek down to the top of his lip. It’s at least three inches long, bumpy, and, since it’s kind of fresh, a nasty, violent purple.
That’s from me. I know it is. I did that to him. There must’ve been iron in the shovel when I swung at him, because not only did it hurt him enough to let loose his fire, but it left its mark.
No wonder he’s flanking the queen. After what happened at the cemetery, I’m probably at the top of his shit list. Melisandre is
after my head? The sword hanging at his hip would probably do the job pretty easily.
Could this get any worse?
Shouldn’t have let that thought cross my mind. As soon as it does, the queen gestures at me. It’s obviously a signal because, the second her arm is lowered, her guards break formation. Instead of flanking her, they form a circle around me.
There goes any hope of escape.
I’ve got about four feet separating me from the fae. Far enough that I don’t start freaking out about how they’re all within touching distance, but still close. Too close.
I’m screwed, aren’t I?
“Come now. We can’t discuss matters out in the garden. Let’s go into my palace. I know you’ve come all this way to force me from my throne, but I’ll extend an invitation inside all the same. Follow me.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Shadow, please.” Her voice is still quiet, but soft it ain’t. Melisandre puts steel in the way she calls me Shadow. “That can wait until we’re inside. Now, you can follow me, or you can linger with my guards. Your choice.”
