I glanced from the open door to my little six-pound Chinese Crested. PC had visited Faerie with me once because I hadn’t had any other choice at the time. Neither the dog nor I wanted him to go on a repeat adventure, so I took him back upstairs first.
Forty minutes later, I was standing outside the invisible line where Casey’s circle had once stood that now marked the boundary between normal, mortal reality and the chaotic space where I’d lost control of my magic and permanently woven Faerie into this small fold of space. My father watched me, his glamour down so the fae face that looked not too much older than me studied me.
“Did you need a chaperone?”
I frowned, but then, I guess I was lingering in doorways. “No. I’d prefer to go alone.” Or, at least I thought I would. I was off to see a Faerie prince—the prince of shadows and secrets at that. Was it safe to go alone?
Was it any safer to take my father?
Without another glance at him, I stepped through the doorway and across the circle line. The change was immediate. My eyesight sharpened, the air turned sweeter, as if perfumed by unseen flowers, and distant music played just at the edge of my hearing. It was annoyingly comforting. Faerie, as scary as it was, felt like home.
It scared me because I enjoyed it.
Shrugging off the feeling, I walked across the room, dodging the dead zones that looked washed out and decayed. Those were the places my magic had dragged the land of the dead into this reality. If I stepped through one, my very clothing would rot off. This meeting was going to be awkward enough without me showing up in tatters.
A lone figure stood by the stone bench in the center of the room, his back toward me. He cut an impressive figure, and really did look like a prince out of an old tale. His dark hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck so it fell in a straight line down the center of his back. He wore a red cape over his black oiled armor, the material swishing around his calves as he turned to face me.
He smiled, and it was a handsome smile, but there was no warmth to it, no sincerity. “I brought you these.” He held out yet another bouquet of roses, this time the black intermixed with deep red.
“Uh . . .” I accepted the roses, feeling more than a little awkward. How did fae manage to interact without insincere thank-yous? Finally I said, “They’re lovely.”
Then I had to figure out what to do with the enormous bouquet. I had no interest in holding it the entire conversation. I settled for setting it down on the bench.
Dugan looked from me to the flowers and back. The fake smile slipped, ever so slightly, but he stepped forward, capturing my hand in his. I think, perhaps, he’d meant to lock our fingers, but he paused as he caught sight of my palm.
I jerked my hand away, but not fast enough. I always remembered to put my gloves on before I entered the Bloom, but I’d been so preoccupied, I hadn’t even thought about it before entering this small pocket of Faerie.
“You wear the blood of your enemies,” he said, his voice betraying what sounded a lot like impressed amazement. Which wasn’t what I was expecting. Faerie took the phrase their blood on your hands very seriously and most fae reacted with fear or revulsion. His gaze moved to where I’d pulled gloves from my purse and he frowned. “Why do you try to hide it?” He reached out and took the gloves. “That is not the way of the shadow court. We wear our blood with honor.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly proud of it.” And I wasn’t a member of the shadow court. Not yet at least. Hopefully not ever.
Dugan didn’t give me back my gloves. “Was the kill disgraceful or unrighteous?”
I thought back to the fight that had earned me the blood on my hands, or at least, the first blood on my hands. It had happened in this very room, on the night I’d learned I was a planeweaver and I’d first merged the planes. But I’d more than just killed the body of my enemy that night. I’d consumed his very soul in my attempt to stop him. I shivered.
“This isn’t what I asked you here to discuss,” I said, trying not to look at the spot where Casey’s bed had been. Where I’d almost died under the Blood Moon.
“Of course. The planebender awaits us whenever you’d like to travel to our court.” He pointed to a far corner. I hadn’t even noticed the small cloaked figure at the back of the room. Good thing he hadn’t been an enemy intending me harm. “I thought you’d bring more with you. It will be . . . complicated to return.”
“Wait. You thought I—” I cut myself off. Had he really thought a bouquet or two of flowers would convince me to marry him? To run off and join his court? Yeah, no. Not happening. I shook my head. “I’m not going to Faerie,” I said, but when his frown deepened I added, “Today, at least. I just wanted to ask you some questions about the shadow court.”