“I told you that.” She crossed her arms. “You don’t seem to understand the implications. If Shea uses the Window to get back to Annwyn, the war he starts will cause ripples on the river so big that an outbreak of smallpox will look like a sneeze.”
“So how am I supposed to find a mirror that can’t be traced and changes shape?”
“I don’t know.”
Caspian’s jaw worked. While usually he didn’t discuss his work or his lack of dating with Dylis, Callaway House might be important. He pulled out his camera and scrolled through the pictures he’d taken that evening, stopping on the one of the fairy man. He’d zoomed in and got one of just that picture. “Do you know who he is?”
Dylis frowned. “Where did you get this?”
“I’m doing a valuation at Callaway House. His picture was up on the wall.” He paused, but knew he should tell her about the “ghost.” “I think there’s also a Grey in the house.”
“He is definitely not a Grey.”
“You can tell that from a picture?” Caspian looked at the picture again, but still couldn’t pick it.
She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Of course I can. Why is a Grey at the house? Did it follow you?”
“No, according to Lydia it’s always been there. She thinks it’s a ghost.”
“Greys don’t live forever. Are you sure it wasn’t just mice?”
Caspian rolled his eyes. “I know what fairy footsteps sound like. Plus, Greys make me…” there was something about them that warned him they were near, “tingle.” And not in a good way.
“Interesting.” She took the camera and looked at it again. “Musician?”
The look on her face was far too calculated. “What?”
“Just… the last name connected with the Window was Riobard; he was a Court minstrel who stole some things and left, never to be seen again.”
Until now. Cold snaked down his spine. If Riobard was the man in the picture, then the Window could be at Callaway House. It could be why the ghost was there but unable to find it.
“If a fairy touched the Window, would they know what it was?”
“It’s a secret portal; you have to know how to activate it.”
“So even if a Grey found it, without knowing it was the Window it would be useless.”
Dylis nodded. “You can see why it’s so valuable.”
Oh, he did. He also knew why Shea had come to him, and why the ghost was constantly searching. Without knowing how to activate the Window it was just another mirror. But Shea would know how to use it. Suddenly finding it before Shea did became a whole lot more important. At the moment only he and Dylis knew it was most likely at Callaway House. But if Shea realized it, Lydia could be in danger.
Dylis looked at him, and he knew she’d been thinking the same thing. “You have to get back there and find it.”
Finding the Window was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack, even for him. Callaway House was filled with stuff, then there was the stable and the cabins, and so many places to hide something. For all he knew it was buried, or in the roof. “I need the Counter-Window.” It would be his best chance to find it.
He took a breath as he realized what he was doing. Like any fairy he was getting drawn into the twisty world of fairy politics and finding it exciting. No, he was doing it for Lydia. Having a Grey in the house and having something that valuable and dangerous in her possession wasn’t good. She knew nothing of fairies and could be tricked into all kinds of trouble.
“I’m working on it. In the meantime, keep looking; we have to find it first.” She tapped the box she’d brought with her. “I spoke with your father about Shea. This is from him.”
“No, no. I won’t be sucked into accepting gifts. You can take it back.” Caspian’s gaze flicked between the box and Dylis.
“It’s from your father.” She shrunk down to her usual ten inches to conserve power then leaned an elbow on the box “I can’t take it back.”
The box smelled exotic. Sandalwood. It had been delicately carved so the flowers on the sides looked like they were swaying in the breeze. He narrowed his eyes—were they swaying? He reached out his hand to touch the wood and find out, but stopped millimeters from the surface. He blinked and broke the spell the box was weaving.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know. It’s a gift.”
“What’s it for?” If she’d expected him to be delighted his father had acknowledged him, she was wrong. His father had never shown any interest in his life, or even in getting to know him. Biology didn’t mean squat.
“I don’t know, he didn’t say.”
In thirty-five years his father had never sent a gift, yet one mirror needed to be found and one banished fairy lord appeared on Caspian’s doorstep and suddenly presents arrived. He was as suspicious as he was tempted. He wanted to know what was inside. Even though he hated his fairy blood, particularly at the moment, he still wanted to meet his father and ask all the questions he’d had growing up—even if he didn’t like the answers. As a child he’d always felt that somehow he must be unworthy of Annwyn since his father was the Prince and didn’t want him. Felan hadn’t even waited for him to be born before casting him off. His mother had said the last time she’d seen Felan she’d been five months pregnant. Just talking about Felan had upset her. Another reason to hate the Prince.
Bloody fairies thinking they could walk in and use humans for whatever they wanted and leave without a second glance.
“You open it,” he said to Dylis. She wasn’t here because she liked him. She was here because Felan ordered her to be here. His father thought highly enough of his changeling son to provide a bodyguard and fairy tutor. For that Caspian had to be grateful. Love him or hate him, they would always be tied by blood and Annwyn.
She rolled her eyes and muttered something that could’ve been about damned souls and rivers, which Caspian chose to ignore.
“You are more like your father every day,” she snapped.
Dylis grunted, flicked the catch, and pushed back the lid. She gave a whistle, then glanced at Caspian. “He raided the armory and placed a strategic land mine.”
The warning tingle became a tightening of his gut. Despite his better judgment, Caspian leaned over and took a look inside the box. Cradled on a bed of the most delicate green velvet he’d ever seen was a silver tea set. But it wasn’t plain silver—that would’ve been far too simple. Chips of gems were woven into delicate knots that looped around each cup and saucer. The knob on the top of the teapot lid was an emerald the size of a small grape.
Out of habit Caspian immediately tried to place a value on the gift. While he could price the metal and gems, he couldn’t begin to cost the craftsmanship. There was nothing like this in the human world.
He swallowed and reached out his hand, knowing it could be a trick and he’d wind up trapped inside or worse. But his father hadn’t charged Dylis with his care only to do him harm now. Beneath his fingertips the box was warm as if it had been resting in the sun.
Felan smiled as he held the box, but under the admiration of the work was worry. The tightness around his eyes gave it away. He closed the box and nodded, then he seemed to look directly at Caspian. “Enjoy the gift, son.”
Caspian broke the contact and stepped back. They were the first words he’d ever heard his father say. He curled his fingers by his side to stop himself from reaching out just to hear it again.
“Anything?” Dylis leaned forward.
“No. Just Felan holding the box,” he lied. He looked at the beautiful tea set; it was obviously meant for his Brownies. “I suppose I should set it up.”