Chapter Fifteen #2
He is formidable. Not quite as powerful as I am, I think, but he is certainly closer to it than anyone else in this room.
He is also Seelie.
“Who is he?” I ask, careful, despite the sudden tension I feel, to keep the grip I still have on Dante’s neck gentle. Why is he the only Seelie who has been invited? “What is he doing here?”
Nuala drops her eyes. “Oisin is a member of the court,” she says. “Your uncle brought him here a few years ago. I believe your brother has met him.”
Iagan. I study Oisin again. He meets my eyes across the room, and his lips quirk. Dante lets out a faint gasp.
“What is it?” I ask.
Nuala takes a small step back, but she can still hear us.
“He took her,” Dante says.
I do not ask how he knows. A witch he might be, but that means he has magic all the same, and I have no doubt that he will be able to pick up even the faintest traces of the magic that belongs to Ophelia.
I locate Grant, who has moved closer to us during the course of the conversation with Nuala.
His eyes are narrowed as he watches Oisin, but when he catches me looking, he nods.
I have no doubt Grant can pick up even more of her magic than Dante can.
“Why did my uncle bring a Seelie to the Unseelie court?” I ask. There is no point in asking why my mother would agree to appoint him a position. Either he impressed her, or he amused her. There is no arguing with her decision now.
“No one knows for sure,” Nuala says after exchanging an uncertain glance with one of her companions. “He said that we should strive for a better relationship and that this was a good start.”
“But…?” I prompt.
“But there are rumours. They are not soulbonds, but…”
I nod, and she stops talking. There are always rumours. And the only way to truly get to the bottom of them is to talk to the people involved.
“Enjoy the rest of the ball,” I say because the words it was a pleasure to meet you burn like iron on my tongue. Nuala and her companions withdraw, and for a moment, Dante and I stand alone in the centre of the room.
“What are we going to do?” he whispers. I still have my hand on him. When I look at him, he tilts his head slightly back to meet my eyes.
“We will speak with him,” I reply. “I have done as he asks. There is no reason he would keep her.”
“Why isn’t she here?” Faint panic colours Dante’s voice and I stroke my thumb over his skin. It feels softer here, where he is quite vulnerable, and he lets out a shaky breath.
“I did not know Your Highness would bring such an interesting pet,” a voice says, and I turn to see that Oisin has already chosen to approach us. Zomo has not accompanied him.
“You took someone important to me,” I say.
Dante stands up a little straighter, like the words surprise him. Oisin tilts his head to one side, eyes darting between me and Dante.
“Apparently so,” he says. His magic brushes against mine again and I fight the urge to lash out and push him away.
“Why is she not here?”
“You think I would bring her into this pack of wolves?” Oisin says. A bitter laugh colours his words. “Your soulbond is yours to introduce as you like.”
His eyes linger too long on Dante again. He knows. I am not certain how, as I have not felt his magic brush against our bond, but he does.
But why take Ophelia in the first place? Although I did not sense his magic outside the café. Perhaps he was not involved in the physical act of kidnapping, which does not absolve him of any guilt or blame.
“I am here. I have returned to the court. I know what I am to do.”
Oisin scoffs. “No, you do not.” He only smiles when I bare my teeth. “This is hardly the place for such a delicate discussion. Zomo showed us to a room in the east wing. I am certain you can find us.”
Grant sidles over. He gives the faintest incline of his head when he greets me, then turns to Oisin and gives him a slow once-over that he ends with a rather unimpressed expression.
“He’s the one, then?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
Oisin narrows his eyes. “You return with a pet and a selkie no one has ever heard of?”
Hm. I do not think he sees through Grant’s disguise, which is at least something we have to our advantage. Powerful as he is, Grant’s magic does not outstrip ours, but he is both a vampire and, in and of himself, incredibly unpredictable.
“Had anyone heard of you before my uncle brought you here?” I reply.
“Those who valued knowledge of Seelie affairs, no doubt.” Oisin sighs and looks around the room slowly, entirely too dramatic. “I always forget how dull these parties can be. Come to my rooms when you are finished here. We can discuss my terms.”
Terms? Oisin drops into a half bow and walks away before I can push him to explain. Dante shakes all over once he is gone and Grant steps in closer, as though he can somehow shield him from the rest of the room.
No doubt they are all watching us. Waiting for weakness, waiting to… Perhaps not strike. Not when the realm is fading. But waiting and watching all the same because one day the realm will be safe again and then I will only be a liability.
“What are we going to do?” Dante asks.
“We will speak with him.” There is nothing else to do.
Oisin might have kidnapped Ophelia—or, as it seems, got someone else to do it—but Zomo knew what had happened.
All of these fae have eyed Dante with more suspicion than they would a usual pet; they believe my soulbond has been taken and they know I am here to retrieve her.
“What if it’s a trap?” Grant’s gaze darts between the two of us. “What if he didn’t bring her with him?”
“You sensed her magic,” I say.
“So did I,” Dante adds. He swallows and seems to consciously calm himself. “I wouldn’t have felt it on him if he’d been travelling without her for hours.”
“We will remain here for another hour. Grant, go back first. I will ask Zomo which room she has placed Oisin in and we will retrieve you on the way.”
Grant looks at Dante, and only when Dante nods does he agree. “Fine. Don’t leave me out of this. I can get them out if everything goes wrong.”
“We’ll get you,” Dante says.
Grant makes his way back into the crowd, easily falling in with another group of fae. From the furtive glances they dart our way, I know they are asking him questions about what just happened, but that does not trouble me. He can lie.
Dante keeps himself together during the next hour, even as I sense the tension in him. I let go of him at some point, but he remains by my side.
Zomo approaches us before I can make my way over to her. “He is in one of the guest suites,” she murmurs. “Third corridor, at the end.”
“You should have told me about him.”
Her eyes are sharp. “He has been in the court for a decade.”
Not long after I left for good then.
“And he has met Iagan?”
“On occasion. Your brother does not frequent the court.”
No, he does not. Which means he had to be here for some reason, or he has visited our uncle.
Or he is developing his own schemes. I would never put it past him to do that.
“Thank you for your work tonight. It has not gone unnoticed.”
Zomo’s gaze softens. “It may not be as terrible here as you feared.”
I do not reply to that. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I will not know until it happens, and right now, that is hardly my concern. I steer Dante out of the ballroom, my hand on his lower back the way I wished for earlier, and he stays close even once we are out of sight of the rest of the fae.
“Do you think he’ll let her go?” Dante whispers. We are almost back at my rooms; the room Oisin is in is not far away.
“It matters not. She is not to remain here. Neither are you.”
“I’m not?”
I stop still. “You would wish to?”
“I don’t—I don’t know,” Dante says. He sighs. “It feels like we wasted a lot of time.”
We did not. I did. I could have approached him at any time, but I assumed I had more than turned out to be the case.
All I can do is nod, and when we reach my rooms, Grant is already coming out the door, practically vibrating in anticipation. “You know where to go?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. I do not break my stride and lead them further down the corridor, then around and through to where Zomo has sent Oisin to stay.
He has set his own wards around the room, which surprises me only for a second. They are likely not for him. He will not risk another claiming credit for what he did. I pause before I knock on the door and look at Grant.
“If necessary…”
He nods. Dante frowns at us both. It is not that I do not believe he could escape alone; Grant is powerful and currently vastly underestimated.
I knock on the door. Footsteps approach, and when it swings open, Oisin is standing there, his shirt half unbuttoned and hair mussed as though he has been running his hands through it. He looks at the three of us, gaze lingering questioningly on Grant. I do not offer an explanation.
“Well, I suppose you had better come inside.”
He steps back to let us in, and the wards vibrate as we cross the threshold. Dante moves further into the sitting room once we are inside. His impatience is palpable.
“Where is she?” I ask.
Oisin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “You care an awful lot for a witch we both know is not your soulbond.”
I tense, but Dante does not even seem to notice. Grant sets his jaw, reminding me uncomfortably of the brief confrontation we had back at the Wild Hunt’s base.
“She’s in the bedroom,” he says.
Oisin shoots him a quick, startled look, but Dante is already moving. Oisin’s magic flares, but mine is faster, and Grant is faster still. He shoves Oisin up against the wall, holding him in place with a hand around his throat. A growl rumbles through his chest, eyes faintly glowing.
“Stay,” he snarls.
Dante reaches the bedroom door, but it opens before he can touch the handle. Ophelia blinks at him, surprised, before her expression crumples and she throws her arms around him. Dante pulls her close, stroking one hand up and down her back.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’re gonna take you home.”