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“Nothing.”
“Prove it.” Her eyes seem to grow darker. They’re… they’re not so yellow anymore. More of a muddy gray, like storm clouds. Fitting, considering the way her expression looks thunderous all of a sudden. “Empty them.”
I do.
I slip both hands into my hoodie pocket first since I doubt she’s worried about the scrap of paper in my jeans. I pull out Carolina’s extra cash in one hand. In the other, I have the piece of fabric that Nine was adamant that I keep with me.
Melisandre straightens in her throne, fingers gripping the edge of the arms. “You dare gather shadows in front of me when I’m being so generous?”
“I’m not doing anything,” I protest. “It’s not even a shadow. It’s like a silk scarf or something.”
“Is that what he told you?”
He? How does she know it’s from Nine?
She points at me. She’s so angry, she doesn’t even name any particular guard. “Take it from her.”
All six guards make a move toward me.
“You want it? Fine.” I throw it far away from me, even further than my necklace. “There. It’s yours.”
As soon as it hits the floor, it sticks. That’s… that’s different. It doesn’t crumple in a ball or slip away. Nope. It’s like it soaks into the fancy tile that make up the floor in the queen’s throne room.
It’s the only spot of black in the whole room. It streaks across the floor, moving to the corner where two walls meet, growing larger and larger as it approaches. By the time it reaches the corner, the shadow darkens and stretches and twists until it’s a patch of darkness about three feet high.
A figure comes striding in from the distance. Seconds later, he’s stepping out of the portal, as beautiful and as untouchable as ever.
“Nine,” I gasp.
I don’t know whether to be happy or afraid that he’s here. Happy because, if there’s one soul in either realm that I can count on, it’s Nine. And absolutely freaking terrified because I’m in Faerie, this is the queen, and now I’ve dragged my Shadow Man into this mess.
Don’t know how, but there’s no denying it.
“Ninetroir.” The queen is visibly annoyed. “I should’ve remembered your parlor trick. You did so love to throw shadows around.”
She’s annoyed.
I’m shocked.
The queen knows his name, too. He told me once how he guarded it ruthlessly his whole life, that only a few had it, whether they earned it through a contract or a bargain or because it bettered him in some way.
He said I was the only one he gave it to without expecting anything in return. Well, the touch that saved my life from the charmed peach, but he would’ve eventually given it to me once I broke free of Rys’s brand.
But Melisandre knows his true name. She knows Nine.
With a small smile, she turns to look at me. She doesn’t have to keep her eyes on Nine. The second he popped into the room, every single Seelie fae turned their weapon in his direction.
The queen rises from her throne, stepping lightly down the stairs that lead from the throne’s platform. She moves toward where I’m frozen in place, addressing only me, like we’re sharing girl-talk or some crap like that.
“One of my favored guards,” she confides. “I hand-picked him right out of the Unseelie Court myself, brought him to my academy. I had such hopes for him before he gave up his post. He was too young, I supposed. I never thought he’d betray me for a human.”
What?
Nine was one of the Fae Queens guards?
What?
“It was such a surprise when he entered in the bargain that trapped him as your guardian. Especially since he’s always hated humans. Isn’t that right, Ninetroir?”
