Let her dance. In a blur of speed, Shana plucked a knife from a tray. More than one head turned in her direction, but as she slid along the stone wall, she saw puzzlement, then dismissal.
Let them all dance, she thought as she worked her way slowly to the wall behind the head table.
The night should have been a celebration of Keegan’s pledge to her. Instead, the night would end with blood when she slit Breen’s throat.
Breen wondered if she could get back to the table and off her feet for two minutes. Clearly, the Fey could dance all night.
When Marco grabbed her hand, she remembered he could, too.
“Come on, girl. Let’s show them how they dance in Philly.”
The table wouldn’t do it, she thought, as she’d still be in plain sight.
“Air. I need five minutes outside in the air. I’m not sneaking off,” she promised. “Bollocks and I are going to step out—as I imagine he needs to for different reasons than mine. And we’ll be back.”
Marco looked down at the dog. “You make sure she comes back.”
She slipped out, and Bollocks made a beeline for the gardens, where a few couples wandered.
She just lifted her face to the sky, to the shine of the moons, and breathed in.
Maybe her feet ached some, but the rest of her felt buoyant. Music pumped against the doors and windows behind her, and voices raised in song joined it. Wine flowed, and laughter swam on it.
She felt the beat of that joy in the air, in the countless hearts surrounding her. If she could have chosen a night to lock in so she could return to it whenever she liked, it would be this one.
Then she felt another heart, and the fury pounding in it. Snarling, snapping, Bollocks tore through the gardens back to her.
Breen whirled as Shana blurred from the castle walls, knife raised. On instinct Breen lashed out.
The knife in Shana’s hand blazed. She shrieked, utter shock, as it fell from her hand, flaming still, to the stones. Even as Bollocks leaped, she shot away.
“No, no.” Breen grabbed the dog before he could give chase. “You won’t catch her, and God knows what she’d do if you did.”
Trembling, she sank down to her knees and hugged the dog.
Not just spoiled, no, Breen thought as she fought to slow her heartbeat. Not just unstable. Twisted. What she’d seen, what she’d felt had been twisted.
“Breen.” Kiara hurried from the garden to the terrace with the man with ginger hair. “Are you all right? We thought we heard you cry out.”
“No, no, I’m fine.” She rose, shifted to block the knife, blackened by the fire.
“I’m Aiden.” He held out a hand to take hers. “I know you helped Kiara today, and she’s dear to me. So you are dear to me as well.”
“I’m so glad to meet you, and to see you looking happy, Kiara. I wonder if you’d do me a favor.”
“You’ve only to ask,” Aiden assured her.
“Would you mind finding Keegan?” Her voice wanted to tremble like her legs, but she fought to keep it steady and light. “There was something I meant to tell him, and it’s so loud in there, it’s hard to talk. If he wouldn’t mind coming out for just a minute.”
“Sure we’ll get him for you. Though it may be for more than just a minute he wants to stay out here with you.” Kiara embraced her, whispered, “I am forever obliged to you. I am forever your friend.”
When they went in, Breen cooled the knife, picked it up. “She would’ve killed me. She meant to.”
Because her legs felt weak, she walked to a bench, sat, with Bollocks all but glued to her side. “Best dog in the world. In all the worlds. A part of me felt sorry for her. She didn’t kill me, but she killed the part of me that felt sorry for her.”
She stayed where she was when Keegan stepped out. “I’d as soon you not wander about by yourself until we’ve settled things.”
Saying nothing, she held out the knife.
“Shana tried to settle them just now. I burned her—I—”
“Are you hurt?” Gripping her shoulders, he lifted her off the bench.
“No. She is. I burned her. Her hand, where she held the knife. The same way—you and the sword. I didn’t think. She came at me, so fast, and—”
“Wait for all that. Where did she go?”
“She ran that way. Something’s snapped in her, Keegan. I saw, I felt …You need to know—”
“We’ll get to all that.” Cróga circled above, glided down. “Up, the both of you,” he said, and all but threw her on the dragon’s back before he leaped on.
“Are we going after her?”
He flew up to the topmost tower, and as Cróga hovered, leaped onto the balcony. He plucked Breen off, patted a leg so the dog jumped after her.
Turning to the doors, he held a hand to them so they opened into his room. “You’re safe here.”
“Keegan—”
“I need you safe. I need to leave you safe and start the search for her. She didn’t hurt you,” he continued when she would’ve argued. “Because you stopped her. She may hurt someone else before they can.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“Stay here. I’ll be back when I can.”
He went through the door. “Close them behind me. I think it’s not something snapped, as you said.” He leaped onto Cróga. “I think it’s something broke free.”
She watched him fly down, leap off again as the dragon hovered. He’d gathered those he needed for the search, she thought. A search for something lost that even if found, wouldn’t be saved.
Part III
VISIONS
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there,
wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Shana ran, far and fast. Without any sense of direction, with her hand screaming in an agony she’d never known, she ran through the forest, over fields, beyond the village. With her dress in tatters, her heart tearing through her chest, she ran and ran and ran.
When the blind panic faded into trembling fear, she stumbled onto a stream. Plunging her hand in the cold water, she wept, wept tears so bitter they burned into her soul like acid.
Desperate for relief, she dug at roots with her hands, gnawed them with her teeth to make a poultice. Even when it cooled enough to stop her from gasping, her hand throbbed.
Shaking with shock, she ripped strips from her skirts.
She sobbed, muttered, sobbed as she wrapped her hand. With her good hand, she scooped water from the stream into her mouth to ease her throat.
And she heard them. Elfin ears caught the sound of riders. Hunting her. She damned them, damned them all as she gathered herself.
So she ran, and now as she ran, she plotted vengeance.
Deep, endless, bloody vengeance.
While Shana fled, Breen paced.
She lit the fires—in what she realized was Keegan’s bedroom, in the sitting room. She lit the candles, the lamps, but couldn’t find any real comfort. She paced to window, to doors, to window, and finally, though she knew it would irritate Keegan, opened the doors to the terrace and stepped out.
In the sky she could see dragon and riders, faeries on the wing. There would be others, she knew—and even now spotted a trio of riders on horseback. Combing the roads, the hills, she thought. And there would be elves and Weres on foot surely, searching through the forests and over the fields.