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“I will never be separated from any children I bear. I will not allow it.” She dropped her voice down to a whisper. “Why do you think that I left him?”
Marcus walked around the desk and cupped the top of her head in his hand. “Then don’t get your hopes up. He’s not coming to the land of the fae, no matter how much temptation Grandfather placed in his path.”
“Grandfather didn’t make him fall in love with me,” she interjected. How dare Marcus discount Ashley’s feelings for her as being some of their Grandfather’s machinations?
“You did that all on your own.” He lightly tickled the top of her head with the tips of his fingers. “I do believe he loves you, Soph, but spend your time on more worthy endeavors. Enjoy the memories you made, and stop wishing for more than it can be.”
He stopped at the door and called her name. When she turned to face him, he stood in the doorway holding on to the doorjamb with one hand. “For what it’s worth, Grandfather only put the machinations in place to bring Mother home for a time. He didn’t do anything to make the duke fall in love with you. That was all you, Soph.” He clucked his tongue at her. “It’s too bad he’s not fae.”
Thirty-One
A hush fell over the land of the fae. The birds stopped chirping, the fireflies stopped chattering, and the spiders all slunk away into their hiding places. Sophia laid her quill on the desktop and looked around. Nothing seemed amiss. The walls weren’t shaking. No one was screaming.
Marcus poked his head around the corner of the door. “Do you hear that?” he asked, his head cocked to the side as he listened intently.
Sophia came to her feet. “I don’t hear anything.” Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong in the land of the fae. Buncomb and Margaret joined them in the corridor as they started for the front door. “Have you ever heard a quiet such as this, Buncomb?” Sophia asked.
“Never, my lady,” he replied. His voice quivered and a shimmer of perspiration appeared on his upper lip.
There was always chatter in the land of the fae. There was always noise, from sounds of the outdoors to the sounds of the kitchen and every place in between. Now, not even the whisper of the caterpillars could be heard.
“Something is wrong,” Marcus said, scratching his head. The house faeries came to greet them at the front door, as though they looked to the Thornes to protect them. Sophia had no idea what could be wrong. Suddenly, an urgent thump began at the other end of the corridor.
Sophia walked in the direction of the only noise in the land of the fae and found her grandfather, deathly pale and struggling with his cane. “Help me, Marcus,” he said, his voice labored.
“Why are you out of bed?” Sophia cried as Buncomb and Marcus each slid under one of his arms and bore the weight of him.
“Things are afoot in the land of the fae, and I do not intend to miss them,” he said. He pointed toward the door. “We must greet them.”
Sophia mouthed to Marcus. What is he talking about?
But Marcus merely shrugged.
Perhaps Grandfather was just a bit mad with his illness.
“Bring a chair for me,” he called, as Marcus and Buncomb carried him through the front door and out onto the walkway. A footman moved quickly to retrieve a chair and followed them out into the street. Sophia walked behind them and raised a fingernail to her lips to absently nibble as she looked up and down the street. People stood on their stoops looking cautiously toward the road.
“Grandfather,” Sophia began. “Perhaps we should go back in the house.”
“Perhaps you should let an old man have a moment of peace,” he groused as he dropped heavily into the chair. He mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “To the devil with getting old,” he muttered to himself.
Suddenly, a fog broke at the end of the lane. The fog grew thicker until it became a colorful cloud, unlike anything Sophia had seen before. She stilled and watched as it spread.
“They’ve arrived,” Grandfather called loudly. The Trusted Few appeared as though summoned.
“This is highly irregular,” the oldest of the Trusted Few said. He started toward the mist.
But Grandfather held up a hand. He smiled broadly when his wife emerged from the mist. She stepped forward and dropped to a crouch at his feet.
“Are you unwell?” she whispered. But a smile hid behind her fear, Sophia could see.
“Let me enjoy the moment,” he said. “Did you bring them?”
She laughed and nodded. “They brought me, actually.”
The edge of a slipper protruded from the mist. Then it pulled back inside. “Who was that?” Sophia asked her grandmother.
“Just wait,” she said. Her cheeks were rosy with anticipation.
