The Rival (27 page)

Except that Solanda had said he was a Visionary.  One of the best Visionaries ever in the Fey.

Ever.

Maybe he saw the Black King's arrival, and …

And …

And what?  Planned to give him Sebastian as his real great-grandson?  Substitute Sebastian?  Take Sebastian's place?

It was all too complicated for Arianna.

But it made her take the steps even faster. 

Her father had placed guards on Sebastian's door, without explaining what they were guarding.  Arianna had closed Sebastian's windows and locked them, ordering him to keep them closed.

Still, he trusted this Gift, and might let him in.  And a spark, a Wisp, could get in anywhere.

Arianna ran the last few steps, hurried onto the corridor, and forced herself to slow down.  Guards were familiar with Sebastian.  They had never seen him run anywhere.

For any reason.

Arianna wasn't even certain he could run.

It seemed to take forever, using Sebastian's lumbering gait, to reach his door.  When she did, she nodded slowly at the guards, then turned the knob and went inside.

Candlelight caressed the walls, making the room seem cozy.  But it was stifling inside, proof, she hoped, that Sebastian had kept the windows closed.

She shut the door behind her.

"Sebastian?" she asked as she rounded the corner.

He was still sitting on the bed.  His hands were at his sides and there were tear streaks on his cheeks.  " … Ari? … "

"We did it," she said.  "Is that all right?"

She hadn't really discussed the change with him.  All she had done was tell him the plan, ask his permission and leave.

" … You … look … like … Gift … ," he said.

She stopped.  The thought made her shudder.  "I'm going to Shift," she said.  "Open the windows, would you?  And don't look."

He stood, even more slowly than she thought.  Maybe she had made a mistake this evening.  Maybe all of her movements were too quick.  He walked to the window, his back to her, and unfastened the shutters.

She closed her eyes and Shifted. The Shift from human form to human form was always disorienting.  The changes weren't as obvious.  A bit of flesh disappearing here, a bit growing there.  Her musculature changed, and so did the shape of her limbs, but the Shifts were tiny, nothing like the grand sweep that happened when she changed into a cat, a horse, or a bird.  She couldn't feel the fur sprouting, her face lengthening or a beak forming.  All she felt was some tightening here, and some loosening there.

And then it was done.  She was herself again.

She didn't even have to change out of the robe.  She and Sebastian were of a height.

"All right," she said. 

He turned, and sighed.  " … It's … you … "

"Who did you think it was?"

"You … said … Gift … might … come … back.   I … did-n't … want … to …  see … him … without … you."

"Why not?"

"He … con-fus-es … me."

"But I thought you've always known him," she said.

"In … here." He reached up and touched his forehead.  "But … out-side … he … seems … dif-fe-rent."

His words relieved her.  She came forward, taking his hands in hers. 

His eyes filled with tears again.  She didn't know how he cried so easily or so well.  She couldn't remember the last time she cried. Solanda said Arianna hardly cried, even when she was a baby.

"Do … you … hate … me?" he asked.

"No!"  She pulled away from him.  "Is that why you think we did this?"

"You … said … "

"I was mad," she said.  Those words would haunt her forever.  That had to be why Solanda left.  "I didn't mean it."

"Then … why … say … it?"

"Because  —  I don't know.  Because I was mad."

" … That's … no … rea-son … to … lie … "

She put her arms around him and pulled him close.  She liked how he felt, all cool and hard and strong.  She always liked it.  No matter what Solanda said, no matter how much her father confirmed it, she would always think of Sebastian as her brother, and Gift as the golem.

Always.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.  "I didn't mean to hurt you.  I never wanted to hurt you."

Even his tears were cold.  They soothed her warm skin like a soft breeze on a hot day.

"Are you mad at me?"

" … No … "

"Not even for taking your place?"

He pulled back and held her shoulders in his large hands.  He had never held her like that before.  It was a grown-up move, and it startled her.  Despite their age difference, she had always thought of him as her little brother.

" … I … could-n't … be … King.  It … would … have … been … wrong.  I … would … have … hurt … things … here.  Ru-ling … is … for … the … swift … "

"You're not mad?" Arianna asked again.  Her heart was pounding.  She hadn't realized how much hurt she had caused, and she didn't want to have taken something precious from him without his opinion.

"I … am … re-lie-ved … "  And he looked it.  His face didn't seem as stiff, his eyes weren't as haunted.  He also seemed relieved that she knew about Gift.  Sebastian had always kept secrets, but they had never made him happy.

She had forgotten that about him.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face.  "We have to go to the war room," she said.  "Something's happened."

" … Is … it … bad … ?"

She nodded.  "Daddy's expecting both of us.  But you'll have to pretend like you were the one downstairs tonight.  Can you do that?"

His smile was slow, but steady.  "I … can.  I … sim-ply … won't   … speak … to … any-one."

Their old method.  It had always worked.  She put her hands on his, then leaned forward and kissed his slightly cracked cheek.  "We have to change," she said.  "You need to be wearing this robe.  And then on the way up, I'll brief you.  Everything's changing, Sebastian."

He touched the spot where she had kissed him.

"Not … every-thing … ," he said.  " … You … and … me,  … we'll … al-ways … be … to-ge-ther … , right?"

"Right," she said, and she meant it.

Then.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Adrian woke abruptly, as if something had startled him awake.  His heart was pounding, but the house was silent.  He leaned up on his elbows. 

Moonlight covered his legs, bathing the room in a silver light.  The chair, with his trousers hanging over the back, looked like a live thing.  His own body seemed paler than usual, the scars from his year of military service and his Fey imprisonment standing out in sharp relief against his flesh.

Then he heard it again, the sound that must have awakened him.  A rustle in the corn, soft voices on the road.  His window faced north, and the road was usually quiet until midday.  But people were on it now.

And they were speaking Fey.

The hair rose on the nape of his neck.  He grabbed his shirt and flung it on, then slid into his trousers.  He buttoned them as he pulled open the door, wishing Luke still lived in the house.

But Coulter did.  Adrian stopped in the hall, and pushed open Coulter's door. 

The room was spotless, as usual.  Coulter kept all of his things perfect, as if he were afraid that Adrian would throw him out for being messy.  Not even the bed was rumpled.  The coverlet was thrown back in a perfect v, the dent in the pillow looked as if it were planned.  Coulter had gone to bed, but he had gotten up.

Adrian continued down the hall.  The kitchen still held the warmth of his baking frenzy earlier in the day.  The back door stood open, as he had left it, and he descended silently into the yard.

The grass was covered with dew.  The water reflected the moonlight, making the grass look as if it were covered in ice.  The water felt good against his bare feet.  He glanced behind him.  His feet left dark impressions on the silvery lawn.

"This looks right."  The voice, speaking Fey, was soft, musical and male. 

"It better be."  The other voice was female and had the sharp edge Fey women's voices often had.  Part of their toughness seemed to be their ability to speak firmly.  "We can't just wake up any old Islander.  Not after what happened to Cover."

The male did not respond to that.  Adrian walked along the edge of the grass until he could peer around the corn.  The moonlight backlit the road, making it seem as if dirt path appeared out of the silvery light.  Two Fey stood on it, face to face, tall and beautiful and ferocious, as Fey always were.

He couldn't see the male's face.  The woman's revealed her to be a girl, one of the children born just before he left.  She would have no idea who he was.  But the male.  Something in the way he stood was familiar.

"Couldn't you find him, make sure we're in the right place?" the woman asked.

The male didn't answer.  He glanced toward the house.  His hands were shaking.

Adrian couldn't remember the last time he had seen a frightened Fey.

"You can come out now," the male said. 

Adrian let out the breath he had been holding.  He stood up, pushed aside the corn, and stepped onto the road.  The dirt was hard against his feet.  A rock dug into his heel. 

"Adrian," the male said.  There was relief in his voice.  He turned to the woman.  "We are in the right place."

"What do you want?" Adrian asked.

"It's me, Gift."  He came forward, hands outstretched.

Adrian took a step back.  He never wanted to touch another Fey again.  He didn't count Scavenger, who had renounced his Fey heritage, and who also had no magick.  But the Fey had dozens of tricks, and many of them involved touch.

"I can't see your face," he said.  "I have no idea who you are."

The male turned his face toward the moonlight, illuminating his features.  They were King Nicholas's features gone horribly wrong, as if an artist had taken them and forced them into a Fey mode.  It didn't help that the moonlight had leached the color from his long hair.

"I haven't seen you since you were a little boy," Adrian said.  "How can I be sure it's you?"

"Because I'm the one who helped you out of Shadowlands," Gift said.  "I'm the one who kept my grandfather away from you as you escaped the Warders."

"Anyone could remember that."

"I'm the one who told you where Coulter was."  He turned, slightly, and as he did, his features were transformed.  He had some of Jewel in his high cheekbones.  But he had Nicholas's eyes.  They were clear in this light, ghost eyes on a Fey face.

"What do you want with us?" Adrian clasped his hands behind his back, to hide his own nervousness. 

"I need Coulter," Gift said.  "I need his advice.  I came at some risk  — "

"I don't care about your risk," Adrian snapped.  "You two are Linked.  You didn't have to come here to see him."

"He told you that?"

"He tells me most things."

"I needed to come this time," Gift said.  "Something's happened, and I can't figure it out on my own."

"Who's that?" Adrian asked, nodding toward the woman.

"Leen.  She's my guard."

"The great hope of the Fey only travels with one guard?"

"I'm not the great hope," Gift said.  "I'm the tolerated untested warrior."  Then he smiled.  The look was completely his.  What Adrian had thought at first to be an ugly combination of two mismatched faces transformed into one of the most startlingly handsome faces he had ever seen in his life.

"The other guard was murdered on the bridge in Jahn," Leen said, as if she expected Adrian to attack them as well.

He frowned.  Something was happening.  He didn't like having Gift here.  Gift was an adult now, raised among Fey.  He was, in Adrian's estimation, the most unpredictable of all of them.

"You'd better come in," he said.

"I need to find Coulter."

"I expected him to be here," Adrian said.  "He wasn't in his bed."

"You can find him," Leen said.

"Yes," Adrian said.  "What about your famous Link?"

Gift glared at him.  "Where's the house?"

"This way."  Adrian led them through the wet grass.  The nerves were rippling in his back.  Coulter should have been with them.  And it seemed odd that Gift didn't want to Link with him.

Adrian had been around Fey for years.  He knew what to expect.  He would be safe enough by himself.  But all the nuances of this visit bothered him.

He changed his mind; he was relieved that Luke no longer lived at home.  He also hoped Scavenger would choose not to show later in the day.

But he did want to know where Coulter was.  Coulter didn't just know what to expect around Fey; he also knew how to handle them.  Coulter had more magick abilities than most of the Fey combined, a fact which terrified them, and made Adrian very curious about where Coulter got that power.

Adrian pointed to the back door.  "Go on in," he said.  "I'll get Coulter."

"I'll come with you," Leen said.

"And leave your charge unguarded?"  Adrian shook his head.  "You can bind me with some spell if you want.  I promise that I won't bring anyone else here, nor will I pour holy water on you. That stuff isn't allowed in my house."

Then, without waiting for her answer, he turned and headed back toward the fields.  He had an idea where Coulter was. 

The woman apparently decided not to follow him.  She leaned against the door jamb and watched him go.  He swerved a little, as a bit of misdirection, and then went on.  The corn closed around him as if it were protecting him.  But it whispered his passage all the same.

He crossed one growing field until he reached the clearing.

Coulter was sitting in the middle of the clearing.  The moonlight seemed to fall directly on him, as if targeting him.  He sat in the circle of light, legs crossed, hands on his knees, eyes closed.  As Adrian approached, Coulter said, "Stay there, Adrian."

Adrian stopped.  He had long ago learned to listen to Coulter when Coulter was in one of these moods.

"You weren't in bed," Adrian said.

"No need to play games," Coulter said.  "Gift is here."

"Yes.  Why haven't you greeted him?"

Coulter opened his eyes.  In the odd light, they looked silver and flat.  "I blocked the Link."