- EIGHT #3
"Yeah, let's," I said, taking my teacup and pouring it back into the pot. "So we can also stop pretending that you're not trying to poison me."
To my side, Declan chuckled. "It was worth a try, wife." His eyes went to me. "So what are we to do with you?"
"We could throw her down in the dungeon as well," Opal piped in. "It would be quite a treat for them to watch each other get tortured, don't you think?"
I felt my stomach drop because I knew that if Declan agreed, that was exactly what would happen to me. But I couldn't let that happen. I needed to escape. I needed to get out and find a way to get back in and save Jasper. I was his only hope.
But I wasn't like Jasper. I wasn't brave. I wasn't strong. I didn't have special skills.
Or did I?
Jasper had insisted that I was named after the gemstone Celestine, that I had the powers associated with it. Namely, to contact the angelic realm and beg favors.
It was worth a shot.
I closed my eyes tight. In my mind, I yelled, screamed, projected my thoughts into the sky above me.
I wasn't entirely convinced angels existed and, if they did, that I was able to contact them.
But I had to try. I closed my eyes and thought over the helplessness of the situation, how trapped I felt, how powerless.
As I did, I felt a heat fill me, something like anger, but darker, meaner, perhaps more vengeful.
I forgot all about angels and fae and seemed to only fall deeper into the well of rage inside me that I had never known before.
"Oh my God," Amy's voice said in a stunned whisper.
My eyes snapped open, quickly taking in Declan and Opal's shock.
At what? Me? I turned my head, looking for the source of that expression.
As I swiveled my head, there was a glittering in the air.
Sure I was seeing things, I moved it again.
There it was, like some kind of sparkling in the air around me.
I lifted my hand and saw the sparkling all around it too, not actually touching my skin, but surrounding it all the way up my arm, over my chest, down my torso, even around my legs and feet.
"You were right, wife," Declan said to his wife, but quickly returned his gaze to me.
"I always am," Opal said with a satisfied nod.
"That's a nifty little gift you have there," Declan told me, watching me so intensely I was sure he thought I was going to evaporate into thin air at any moment.
"One of many," I said, visualizing a wall dropping down all around my brain, sure I could keep him out if I tried, could keep him from seeing the lie. Suddenly, maybe due to the adrenaline, fear, the bone-deep need to survive, I found it surprisingly easy.
Declan studied me for a long moment, head tilted to the side, brows drawn together. "Did he teach you that shield as well?"
"You have someone invade your thoughts one too many times, you try to learn to keep them out. Though," I added with a smirk, "it never worked on him."
"Regardless of all that," Opal broke in, knowing I was goading her husband and wanting to steer the conversation. "We need to figure out what is to be done with you."
"Opal..." Declan's voice held reason, like he was trying to remind her of something.
"When have we ever been known to play by the rules, Declan?"
"This is different," Declan insisted. "We don't start with the Courts directly."
"But this isn't directly. She's new to all this.
Everything she does know, it seems, was taught to her by your son.
She was just another silly changeling before then.
Besides," she said, leaning across the table slightly, "how come no one ever knew?
They would have been flaunting it. There would have been balls, parties every year on her birthday, not silence for twenty some-odd years.
Something isn't right. Maybe we were mistaken. "
Declan glanced at me and shook his head. "No. You just have to look at her to see it. Whether or not she understands all of this is irrelevant. We have no right. We would lose everything if they found out."
"Oh, but who would tell them?" Opal asked, voice full of challenge.
I looked between them as they spoke, utterly lost. Who were 'they' and what were the Courts? And why would they care about me?
"No one would tell," Declan declared, his voice getting louder, more angry.
"But they are powerful. We don't even know how powerful after all this time.
They have their ways, you and I both know that.
And if they did find out, we would suffer.
" His voice lowered suddenly, sounding more pleading.
"We can't take the risk. Not with all we have to lose, all the dirt that could be brought to light.
We can't have that. You wouldn't look pretty in rags, wife. "
Anger flared in Opal's eyes. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who was told no often. She stomped out the fire in her gaze suddenly and sneered. "I look pretty in everything, darling. But I suppose you make a fair point."
Not, 'you are right'. Not 'I was wrong'. But, 'you make a good point'. I almost smiled. It was clear who wore the pants in their relationship.
Declan looked back at me. "Well, Celestine, what is to be done?
Out of respect to the Light, we must let you leave.
" The victory, the hope swelled up quickly.
Perhaps too quickly. "However," Declan added, "you will not be taking my son with you.
Any hopes you have of saving him, let them die now.
He's mine. Always has been, always will be.
And I will take immense pleasure in showing that to him every single day for the rest of my life. "
I took a breath, steadying myself, making sure I was calm enough to sound convincing. "That's fine. He was always more trouble than he was worth," I said, giving Declan a small smile. "It must be a hereditary trait."
He surprised me by laughing again, deep and appreciative. "You're a piece of work."
"Yes," I said, forcing my legs to hold me up as I moved to stand, despite them suddenly feeling boneless. "That is also a hereditary trait," I said with certainty even though I didn't have the damdest idea if that was true or not.
It worked and the smile fell from Declan's face.
"Right," he said, standing as well. "Well, let's get you on your way, shall we?
" he asked, reaching out to grab my arm and flinching back almost instantly.
He looked down at his fingers, red like they were burned.
His gaze slid to my face again. "Really nifty little trick.
" Then we walked out into the hall, as close as my little shield would allow.
He leaned down to my ear as we hit the open front door.
"You have twenty seconds to get from the front porch to the tree line or I will send my men to catch you.
Then you can get a cell right next to my son's. Are we clear?"
I stepped onto the porch. "Abundantly," I said, then turned back, feeling a bit of premature victory and it made me brave. "And Declan?"
"Yes?" he asked, brow raising.
"You are going to live to regret this moment."
"Is that a threat?"
"Just a word of advice," I said and threw myself over the wall of the porch.