Chapter 24 Hounds & Shadows #2
Oberon gave me a patient smile. “I think it likely, yes, but fay children are not born with them, so I cannot say what form they might take. When I glamoured you as a baby, I locked away the parts of you that would make them grow naturally.”
“Well, how do I…make them appear?”
“Slow down, Marina,” he laughed. “We have not even released the most basic parts of your magyk yet. Being able to disguise your true form, pull parts of yourself in and bring them out, will require more practice, and we cannot rush the process.”
I let out a small groan of frustration, then sighed and looked around the room. “Is this your personal library?”
“It is open to anyone, although the folk here are not incredibly inclined toward the written word. We mostly collect historical records of the Arden Court, memoirs and poetry collections and treatises on magyk. Simeon and I believe it is important to preserve our history, our culture.” He tipped his chin to one wall, where I saw a hollowed-out space between shelves.
An unnaturally large horned owl perched there on a branch, sleeping soundly.
“That’s…Simeon?” I whispered.
“He is blessed with the ability to shift,” Oberon murmured.
“But unfortunately, has been forced to adopt the sleeping schedule of his animal form. Rather inconvenient.” The owl opened a single eye and glared at us for a moment, then ruffled his feathers and turned around on the perch.
I stifled a laugh as I followed Oberon out of the library and down the stairs.
Sir Toby stayed right on my heels, his claws clickety-clacking on the wooden steps.
After another brief walk through the Arden, we came to a grove of rowan trees surrounded by tall oaks, which gave it the pleasant, enclosed warmth of a greenhouse.
Sunshine filtered through their autumn leaves, patching the ground and glinting off the blood-red berries.
Toby made himself comfortable quickly, stretching out in one of the sun patches with a loud sigh.
I remembered Antenor’s story about how Devil had been created, and assumed that this was the sacred rowan grove he’d been referring to.
But Oberon gave me no confirmation of the fact, just shed his billowing outer robe and turned to face me wearing a plain, black tunic, jerkin, and trousers.
As he rolled up his sleeves, I saw jagged, silvery designs—reminiscent of mountain peaks—tattooed on his obsidian skin.
“You were not born in the Arden,” I said softly.
“No,” he answered with a gentle smile. “I came here long ago, as an emissary for my cousin, Lord Mariaat, and I simply…never left.” He finished with his sleeves and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
I did not ask any of the other thousand questions burning in my chest, but watched in silence as he gathered his own power.
The shadows seeped from his body, dropping like a heavy fog before curling up his ankles and calves, wrapping themselves around his ropes of white hair, and then twining around his chest and shoulders.
They solidified behind him into a pair of mighty bat wings, capped with their deadly talons.
From his head grew the pair of silvery-gray ram’s horns.
Now he truly looked every inch the faerie king, and my excitement melted into nerves.
“What will happen?” I asked in a voice far more shrill than I would have liked.
“I do not want to overwhelm you too quickly,” Oberon said, walking in a circle around me.
“I had to place many different types of barriers, in varying degrees of strength, to ensure that your magyk would be suppressed no matter what. Removing them slowly, cautiously, will allow you to adjust to your power in small increments. But you must tell me exactly what you are feeling.”
He led me to the center of the grove, where I knelt on a cushion of moss and grass.
The anxious pounding in my ears made sitting still difficult, even as I did my best to relax my body.
Oberon stood behind me and placed the tips of his fingers lightly on my head and at the base of my skull.
I cracked my eyes open just enough to see his shadows swirling around me, brushing over my arms, chest, and shoulders.
It was a strange sensation, but not unpleasant—like being wrapped in light strips of linen cloth.
They tightened and, for a moment, it was uncomfortable, before the air around me snapped.
I was flooded.
Spinning out of control.
I pitched forward and flung out my hands, digging my fingers into the grass as I gasped for air.
Ice water rushed through my veins, tearing and pushing its way from my head to my feet.
Behind it came a wave of sleep-inducing warmth.
In the center of my chest, the two met and exploded outward.
I was driven to my feet, staggering a few paces until Oberon caught my upper arm.
“Marina! What do you feel?”
But I simply did not have the words to answer him.
It was the breath you took after being underwater too long, after thinking you might not make it back to the surface.
It was cool water trickling down a parched throat.
It was the relief of a shady tree at the height of Midsummer.
And when I looked down at my own hands, I realized that the shimmering sheen of shadow encasing them was not Oberon’s.
It was mine, and it obeyed me—writhing with every twitch of my fingers, pulsing with every beat of my heart, following me like a faithful pet.
“Shadows,” I whispered. “My own shadows.”
“Yes!” Oberon nearly laughed, reaching out to grip my hands tightly. “You are heir to my power, Marina. A Shadowspinner.”
“Shadowspinner,” I repeated the word softly, and couldn’t help but picture Oberon and Titania’s dance at the revelry. Her light skating across his shadows, like they had been made to balance one another. Made for each other.
Oberon released me and stood back, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “This is enough for today. As I unblock more of your power, it will become increasingly difficult to control, and I do not want to exhaust you. We can practice with this for now.”
“I feel fine,” I said with a shrug. “Wonderful, actually.” I pulled the shadows out a little at a time and let them dance in my palm.
They had an iridescent quality, a sheer, pale green, which could be glimpsed from certain angles, and I was utterly fascinated.
When I moved my hand through the air, they trailed off my fingers in elegant, curling tendrils, like honeysuckle vines cut from the night sky, or took on the form of insects—beetles, moths, even spiders. All my old, familiar friends.
“That is an effect of the magyk,” Oberon said, clasping his hands in front of him and watching me closely.
“Our gifts are closely tied to our emotions, so releasing your full gift will also affect your emotions. The exhilaration you feel now will give way to other things—anger, contentment, despair, joy, confidence, fear, desire, exhaustion. You will be inundated, and you must keep them in check. Remember, they are byproducts of this unlocking. Do your best not act on them, no matter how good it might feel.” He raised an eyebrow. “You understand?”
“Of course,” I murmured.