Chapter 6
M y joy doesn’t last long. Skepticism is quick to coat it like oil on water. He should have asked what would be in it for him. That’s what any reasonable person, human or fae, would have asked. Unseelie aren’t exactly known for their generosity. Quite the opposite, according to the Seelie.
“Why?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “You just met me.”
His arms fall to his sides, and for the first time since I spoke to him, he moves. That single, powerful step forward is enough to have the fine hairs rising on the back of my neck.
Run, run, run.
He doesn’t just walk. He stalks, like a predator on the move. Heart hammering against my ribs, I force myself not to shrink away as he draws near. I’m in this now, for better or worse.
The Unseelie pins me in place with his stare, golden eyes gleaming. He doesn’t stop until he’s mere feet away, close enough that he could reach out and wrap his gloved fingers around my neck if he chose. Close enough to kill me before I could run.
“A human who can open closed doors must know how valuable their kind is to a fae.” He leans infinitesimally closer. “How they grant life and power.”
It takes everything I have to meet his gaze, even as the flush of my skin burns away all trace of the cold. “I’m not going to m-mate with you, if that’s what you’re asking for.”
Is that what they call it? Sex. Fucking.
I could have used either of those words, but either felt too visceral, too real.
Mating feels detached somehow. Maybe it's because we don’t use that word among humans, not often anyway.
And if I’m honest with myself, just thinking about those words, much less saying them, is stirring up sensations that I don’t need and shouldn’t have.
Not for a fae, especially not one I just met.
Though, if I have to sleep with a fae to accomplish my goals, I will.
If it can save my brother’s life, it’s a price I’m willing to pay.
Besides, he does look more appealing than I expected of an Unseelie.
Certainly, more so than their king, who is said to have pale, almost white hair and cat-like features, including furry, pointed ears and a tail.
The thought of having to be intimate with someone like that, a killer no less, is unsettling.
Maybe it wouldn’t be to everyone. Furry cons exist after all—there was one at a hotel near my office last month. But it’s never been my thing.
His nose wrinkles, and he leans back. “I have asked for nothing.”
Ouch. So true. There I went, making assumptions. “Well, I just thought I’d establish that up front.”
That short nod comes again. “Understood. Your presence alone gives life.” He looks out over the landscape as if searching for something new. “Why, I wonder what effect you may have on the land just by being here?”
I blink, stunned. He really thinks I’ll make that much of a difference?
That I might have already? Yes, my presence is supposed to enhance fae power, and that of their land, but just like that?
The power transfer is said to be stronger the closer the bond between the human and fae, hence my assumption on the mating front, but with their land so drained, maybe that’s not even necessary.
“I suppose we shall see,” he says, glancing back at me. “So, tell me, little human, what do you need to find?”
Little human? The nickname is endearing and insulting in equal measure. But I do my best to ignore the latter. I’ve offended this guy enough already.
Instead, I say, “My name is Aimee.”
He blinks at me, surprise evident.
Matt told me once that fae names having power was bogus, something humans made up along the way. But now I wonder.
“Aimee.” The fullness that he packs into my short little name is surprising.
To say nothing of the richness of his voice as he drew out each letter like slowly sampling a fine wine.
If discussion about mating hadn’t already planted a few inappropriate thoughts in the back of my mind, that surely would.
Silence lingers, his intense gaze taking me in.
“A-and yours?” I finally manage.
“You can call me Elias.”
“Nice to meet you, Elias.” Strangely, when I say it, I realize it’s not a lie at all.
He is more palatable than the versions of the Unseelie I had in my mind, and someone else’s presence is a small comfort around so much lifelessness.
An awkward silence lingers, so I pull in a deep breath and get straight to the point.
“Well, now that that’s settled, let me show you what I’m looking for. ”
I undo the waist clip of my backpack and let it slide off my shoulders to thump heavily on the ground. It takes only a moment to unzip the main compartment and pull out the piece of paper I’d slid down one of the flat sides closest to my back.
“There we go.” I unfold it and turn toward Elias, holding it out to him.
His attention falls to the lines on the page. He blinks at it once, twice, before his gaze slides off toward the ground.
My stomach drops. “That hard to find?”
A brief shake of his head, then he lifts his gaze. “I cannot read that.”
Oh. Oh. “I’m so sorry.”
And now I understand the look on his face. Embarrassment. He might speak my language just fine—Matt has a theory that the magic of their world probably helps with that somehow—but how foolish of me to expect him to be able to read it.
“I can, um…” I sputter, my own cheeks flaming. We’re off to a fabulously awkward start. “Hold on.”
It’s a good thing I thought to bring copies of both sides of the book, one I learned was loaned from the royal library in the Court of Fire.
One side was written in the Seelie tongue but spelled for humans to read.
Though even then, several of the ingredient names didn’t sound like things I knew, and some were not even ones the Seelie recognized.
It’s that post-spell English version that I’d shown Elias first. Now, I fish out the other side, the one believed to show the original Unseelie instructions and ingredients.
“Here, try this.” I hold out the second page.
“That is—” He reaches for it, clearly intrigued.
And it dawns on me he’s probably never seen a photo before. Well, before like a minute ago.
I hand it to him. “It’s like a very detailed drawing of the book where I found the potion.”
Long fingers with sharp, pointed nails—the first truly animalistic thing I’ve noticed about him—caress the page. “There are no marks. No brush strokes.”
“No, it’s…” My teeth worry my bottom lip. How to explain this to a fae? “Humans have a way of capturing a moment in time and putting it on paper.”
“How strange.” He squints at it.
“Yes, I suppose,” I admit. “Though also quite helpful. I couldn’t bring the book with me, but this way I still have the page about the potion.”
His golden gaze slides from the page to my face. “You could have ripped out the page.”
I nearly gasp at the audacity of ripping a page from a book, much less a rare fae text.
Elias chuckles at the horror on my face that I’ve failed to hide. “A lover of books, I see.” His attention shifts back to the page, and he strokes it lovingly once more. “They are a rare and precious treasure.”
Drawn by the awe in his tone, I take a step closer. “You like books as well?”
He nods. “Though they are very rare in Tir na Tuchas these days. We have lost much to time and neglect.”
There’s such sorrow laced in his words that it leaves me cold, my heart aching. curious to know more about this man, I hedge, “Tir na Tuchas is the city you are from?”
“Tir na Tuchas is what we call our homeland.”
“Oh.” Does Matt know that? Or Selena? It strikes me then that I’m probably one of the first humans to have a civil conversation with an Unseelie fae in a very long time.
I’ve always been thirsty for knowledge, and though I’ve never cared much about Faery or the fae, it’s like a buffet of new and rare drinks has been spread out before me, tempting me to try them all.
Oh, the things I might learn.
But that’s not my focus right now. There are seven ingredients. A lucky amount? Though somehow, I doubt fae have the same ideas about luck as we do. Elias’s lips draw thinner the further down the page he reads, which has my stomach sinking.
“Most of these I know,” he says. “However”—a claw-tipped nail taps the page—"this last one is unfamiliar to me. I believe it is written in the old language.”
Well, shit.
I shove a wayward piece of hair behind my ear before I lean in and point to the photo. “There are a few things sketched just here. Could one of these be it?”
Elias shifts his stance, the move making our shoulders nearly brush. I rock back on my heels, fighting the urge to put more distance between us but not wanting to appear rude either.
“These drawings appear to depict some of the elements, that’s true.” He points to a leafy plant with purple flowers. “The Velvias flower.” He taps another thing that may be bark. “Bark of the Siponet tree. This mound here could be Hamhia-hu.”
One by one, he matches up elements of the drawing to the first six ingredients. But there is no seventh. No extra sketch, swirls, dots, or anything to pair up with the last line.
My heart plummets.
When I went through the potion recipe with Selena and the coven members, we knew most of the ingredients.
She even had a contact in the Court of Fire review them.
But three were unknown to them, including this last one.
Unseelie plants and things, we assumed. The others were.
We just had knowledge of them. Elias knows two more, but one is still elusive.
“Maybe someone else will know what it is?” I ask, my chest swelling with a little ember of hope.
He stares back at me, lips slightly parted, and it’s only then that I remember how close we are. Way too close for people who just met, especially an Unseelie fae. His pupils widen ever so slightly, as if he realizes it too, and he takes a step back.
“Maybe.” He hands the page back to me. “Keep it safe.”
I don’t have to be told twice. Hastily, I stuff it back in my pack, eager for something to keep me busy, if even for a moment.
“So,” I drawl out, busying myself with nothing at my pack and not quite looking at him, “where do we start?” Finally, I straighten up and glance over at him.
He has lowered his hood and stares off toward the horizon.
The sky is still overcast, perpetually cloudy, but I’d swear it lightens just a bit in that moment, enough for light to catch in his hair and accent the planes of his face.
The hilt of what’s probably a sword pokes up from underneath his cloak.
The sight is a little jarring, a poignant reminder that this man is not human and I’m far from the world I know.
Elias glances over one shoulder at me. “I think we may find some of what we need this way.”
And with that, he starts off down the hill.
“Wait,” I call out.
He totally doesn’t.
In a rush, I zip up my pack and haul it back over my shoulders. I jog after him, and though he hasn’t gotten far, I’m already huffing by the time I catch up. “We’re walking? Where are we even going?”
He gives a little shrug as if a walk through the wilds of Faery is a normal everyday occurrence. For him, maybe. “Magic has become weak for my kind. Only the strongest fae can shift in the best of times. And now, very, very few Unseelie have that talent.”
Not him. Got it. Well, I was walking anyway, but at least now I have some company.