Realm of Mirrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 3) Read online

  It reminded me too much of the Valentines.

  Bathing only happened after a hunt, and the hunts usually lasted for days, or weeks. The dirtier everyone was, the better they could hide the scent of human from their prey. And since all the nasty jobs fell to me, I’d spend the majority of my time smeared stiff with blood, dirt, entrails, and shit of every variety.

  That was probably why I’d developed a two-shower-a-day habit once I got away from them. And I was itching to get this crap off me.

  The stream was maybe three feet wide and about as deep, fast-running but not whitewater rapids speed. Crystal clear water revealed a stream bed of smooth, loose rocks, and thick grass-like plants with dark blue stalks grew to a height of four or five feet along the opposite bank. But this side was clear.

  I knelt beside the stream, splashed water on my face, and drank until my stomach was tight. Then I plunged my hands into the cold flow and tried to rub some of the grime away. It didn’t come off easy. But I did the best I could with my exposed skin, including my face and neck.

  While I was here, I figured I’d try to wash the shirts, at least. The wild Fae had torn through both of them with his claws, and they were crusted with dirt and blood—mine, and his. I wanted that off, at least. I removed the tunic and the long-sleeved shirt beneath, hesitated a minute, and plunged them both in the stream. They’d dry eventually.

  Just as I finished wringing them out, a voice behind me said, “I thought your tattoos were supposed to glow.”

  “Damn it, Sadie!” I held my breath until my heart crawled out of my throat, and then let it out slowly. “Would you please learn to make some noise.”

  “I’m sorry.” At least she sounded like she meant it this time. I heard her footsteps as she walked up beside me and crouched by the stream. “Seriously, though,” she said. “They’re not glowing.”

  I managed half a smile. “I guess that means I’m not almost dead, and you’re not here to harm me.”

  “Right on both counts.” She let out a sigh and trailed a hand in the water, staring intently at the opposite bank. “I take it you couldn’t sleep?” she said.

  “Not even a little.”

  “I think I was dozing. Not sleeping, exactly. I heard you get up.” She still wouldn’t look at me. I wondered what was wrong, besides the obvious, until she said, “Aren’t you going to get dressed? I know you don’t like people…looking at you.”

  “Oh.” I shook out the shirt and pulled it on, shivering a little as the frigid dampness slapped against my skin. “Better?”

  “Gideon.” She turned slowly to face me. “It’s not me with the problem,” she said. “Don’t you know that?”

  “Yeah, I get it. It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “You’re not ugly.”

  Hell if I wasn’t. But this was not a conversation I wanted to have, so instead of challenging her, I struggled back into the damp, heavy tunic and got to my feet. “If you want a drink or something, go ahead. I’ll wait,” I said. “It’s probably better if we walk back together.”

  She tilted a look at me, and then stood with a determined expression. “Gideon, you are not your scars.”

  “Damn it, I’m not doing this,” I said. “You don’t know shit about it, and—”

  “I would if you told me.”

  “—and I want to keep it that way!” I couldn’t stand glaring at her for long, so I dropped my gaze to the ground. “Do you think I want you to know my pathetic story? To believe that every time you look at me, you probably want to cry, or puke?” I managed to lift my head. “Because for a long time that’s all I could think when I looked in a mirror, or took a shower, or changed my clothes. I never wanted anyone to look at me, at this, and have to carry the burden of why. That’s my goddamn burden. And there is no fucking why.”

  “All right,” she said shakily. “But just so you know, that’s what friends are for. To help carry the burden.”

  I blew a frustrated breath. Hurting her, scaring her—that wasn’t my intention. She was scared enough as it was. “Look, I just…they were hunters.” I couldn’t believe I was telling her anything, even as the words left my mouth. “The family I grew up with, the one I thought actually was my family,” I said. “Not weekend hunters, but full-time, big-game poachers dealing in the black market. They lived in a camper caravan and moved around constantly. Across the country, up into Canada, down to Mexico a few times. Anywhere dangerous and untamed, where normal people wouldn’t go. Kind of like Arcadia.” I paused, trying to unclench my jaw. “And they hated my guts. Every last one of them.”

  She bit her lip. “Gideon, I’m sor—”

  “Please. Don’t be sorry. That’s the last thing I want.” Now I felt bad for basically saying I didn’t want to be here, because it wasn’t true. The landscape was never my problem. “We’re going to find him, Sadie,” I said. “I promise we’ll get him back.”

  “Oh God, don’t promise.” With a small smile, she reached out and brushed her fingers along the side of my face. Her touch practically burned me. “It might kill you,” she half-whispered. “And I couldn’t stand to lose you, too.”

  Christ, this was not good. I couldn’t come up with a thing to say—and if I didn’t start talking, I was going to do something monumentally stupid. Like kiss my brother’s girlfriend while he was off being tortured.

  Before I could start babbling something, anything to break me from looking into her eyes and wanting her, we were interrupted by something equally bad. A rustling-grass sound from somewhere behind me, followed by a sharp splash.

  Sadie stepped back with a gasp, her horrified gaze rooted to whatever made the noise. And I really didn’t want to look.

  “Oh my God,” she choked out. “Taeral!”

  CHAPTER 28

  I was moving the instant his name left her lips.

  It was him. Barely conscious and without his glamour, shirtless and shoeless, missing his arm, and so badly beaten that just looking at him was physically painful—but alive. Breathing.

  He’d landed half in the stream with his face barely above water. I jumped in without hesitation, got behind him and wrapped both arms around his torso, wincing in sympathy at all the ways I was probably hurting him. But he didn’t so much as flinch.

  Sadie was in the water before I finished lifting him. Tears streaked her face, and she moaned as she went for his legs. “We’re going to make him worse, just touching him,” she said. “Oh, God, those bastards.”

  “I know. But we can’t let him drown.”

  Between us, we maneuvered him carefully to the clear side of the stream. “Should we put him down here?” Sadie whispered.

  I wanted to. But we’d be safer by the fire—if there was anywhere safe in these woods. “No,” I said. “We have to get him back.”

  She nodded reluctantly and shifted her grip, easing an arm beneath his knees to put less pressure on him. “Let’s go, then.”

  It took a lot longer than I wanted to make the distance to camp. We had to move slowly, try not to jostle him. Taeral’s body remained rigid as stone the entire time, every muscle constantly vibrating. He didn’t open his eyes or make a single sound.

  The instant we were in sight of the banked fire, Uriskel was on his feet and striding rapidly toward us. “What’s happened?” he called. “Tell me you did not run into—” He came to an abrupt halt when he was close enough to see what we carried. “Is that Taeral?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “He’s alive.”

  Without a word, Uriskel scooped him effortlessly from us, then turned and carried him back to the fire at twice the speed we’d managed.

  Okay, so he was cranky, powerful, and strong as a bull too.

  Sadie and I rushed to catch up as Uriskel knelt and laid him gently on the ground. Then he sent an angry glare over his shoulder. “Was he followed?”

  That wasn’t a question I expected. “Um, no,” I said. “There wasn’t anyone else.”

  “You’re certain of this.”
>
  “He was alone! What’s wrong with you?” Sadie narrowed her eyes and rushed to Taeral’s other side, taking a knee beside him. “Did you even look at him?”

  “Aye, I did,” Uriskel said evenly. “So tell me…how could he have possibly escaped the dungeon in this condition? Unless they allowed him to, so they could follow him.”

  Everything he said was logical, and it was something we really needed to consider. But it still pissed me off. I didn’t want to give a damn how he got here—I just wanted to be grateful that he had. “Look, it’s just him,” I said. “And even if he was followed, and they’re waiting to jump us right now, what do you want to do about it? Leave him here and run?”

  For a second, I thought I saw just that in his eyes. Then he surrendered and straightened with a heavy sigh. “Heal him, if you can,” he said. “I’ll be out casting wards. For all of eternity.” He shook his head, turned on a heel and stalked away, muttering something under his breath about trying to ward the entire Unseelie Wood.

  Considering the circumstances, I thought he’d taken it pretty well.

  I’d used up most of my spark and all the energy stored in the moonstone twice, but Taeral was still unconscious.

  At least he looked a little less like a prop corpse from the world’s most sadistic horror movie. His breathing was a bit more natural, his body relaxed, and some of the bruising and swelling had gone down. Sadie had tried to dab the blood off with one of her t-shirts and water from the canteen, but she couldn’t bear to do it for long, in case he felt it.

  Now she sat on the ground holding his hand. I was on his other side, and Uriskel huddled across the fire from us, slowly building the flames back up. He must’ve decided to only cast wards for part of eternity.

  Once my spark recharged, I’d try again. For the moment, it was all I could do not to start screaming—and never stop.

  I didn’t think I’d ever felt this…much. It was the only way to describe the awful, writhing mass that formed inside me the instant I’d seen him, and refused to ease. I was horrified at the pain he must’ve gone through. Practically relieved to tears that he was still alive. So furious at the people who’d done this to him, the anger was a hot blade in my gut.

  And utterly sickened that one of my first, short-lived thoughts was to take him back to the human realm, right now, while we still could. Without Daoin and Reun.

  I’d dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came. But I still hated myself for having it.

  “Do you think they poisoned him?”

  Sadie’s broken whisper distracted me from my self-loathing. “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “But that’s a good point.” If he was dosed with cold iron or mandrake oil, healing magic wouldn’t cancel the effects. Only time could do that—something we probably didn’t have much of.

  I heard Uriskel rifling around in his pack for something. A minute later, he walked around the fire holding a large silver flask. “If he’s poisoned, this’ll help,” he said as he tossed the flask to me.

  “What is it?”

  “Self-medication.” He gave a crooked smile. “It’s elderberry wine.”

  I almost refused. Taeral had a problem with alcohol, and I didn’t think getting him drunk was the best idea right now. But then I remembered the first time I’d seen him shot with a cold iron bullet. He’d brought out a bottle and Sadie started giving him hell for drinking, until he told her it was elderberry wine—and it would neutralize the poison.

  Sadie’s expression said she remembered that, too.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad you packed this. What made you think of it?”

  “Mere habit.” Uriskel shrugged. “With no healing abilities, I’ve a need to rely on alternative methods. Sometimes the only option is to deal with the pain,” he said. “Wine helps with that too, even if I’ve not been poisoned. And I do enjoy the taste.”

  And now I felt bad again. “Well, I’ll try to make sure there’s some left for you.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Use it all,” he said. “I can always raid my brother’s supply when we return.”

  I couldn’t help noticing he’d said when, not if. Like maybe he thought we had a chance now.

  With a nod of thanks, I shuffled on my knees behind Taeral’s head and propped him against my thighs, so he wouldn’t choke on the stuff. I uncapped the flask and opened his mouth carefully.

  Not much of it went down at first. Most of the deep red liquid dribbled down his chin and from the sides of his mouth, looking uncomfortably like blood. I tilted his head back a little further and tried to drip it directly down his throat.

  His body tensed. He coughed and spluttered, and his eyes flew open. But I didn’t think he was seeing anything—they were glassy and unfocused, watering with pain.

  “Taeral.” Maybe he could hear me. “Can you drink this? It should help.”

  He gave a bare nod, the slightest shift of his head. I really hoped that meant yes.

  This time when I tipped the flask, he managed to swallow a few times before the coughing started again. I moved it away until he stopped. “Did they poison you?”

  Another weak nod.

  “All right. Try to get this down.”

  He drank a little more, and then shuddered and blinked slowly. When he opened his eyes, they focused on Uriskel standing a few feet away.

  “You.” His voice was a rusted scrape, like a knife against stone. “Bastard. How could you…bring him here?”

  I felt the words like a blow, and they weren’t even directed at me. I was too stunned to say anything.

  Uriskel’s expression gave away nothing, but now I knew him well enough to understand how furious he really was. He stared at Taeral for a long time, like he was trying to decide whether to scream at him, or kill him.

  Finally, he said, “You’re welcome.”

  And he walked away.

  CHAPTER 29

  I had to give Taeral the short version of why he shouldn’t try to get up and kill Uriskel, other than the fact that he physically couldn’t. He calmed down a little at the halfling part, and a lot more when I mentioned two hundred years of slavery to the Seelie Court.

  Now he was mostly pissed at me.

  “Why did you come here? Both of you could have been killed.”

  “You know why,” I said.

  “I sensed you in the woods, but I…did not believe it.” His head fell back, and he closed his eyes with a grimace. “A’ghreal.”

  Sadie squeezed his hand. “I’m here.”

  “I know.” One corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “You should not be.”

  “You know, I’m really trying not to get angry at you,” she said. “You’re crazy if you think I was going to sit around—”

  “But.” The soft word got her attention. “I am grateful to see you both.”

  Well, that was a first. He’d backed down from stubborn in record time.

  “Get more of that wine down him, will you?” Uriskel materialized from the other side of the fire and tossed something at me—a leaf-wrapped portion of meat. “And eat, if you can. Young lord.”

  Taeral shuddered and strained to sit up. “Uriskel…ihmpáeg míe d’maihtúnaas.”

  I beg your forgiveness. Pretty sure that was a first, too.

  Uriskel sighed. “No need,” he said. “Fortunately for you, I’ve a brother of my own who’s just as bullheaded as yours. I’d have said the same, or worse, if you’d been the one bringing him into danger.”

  “Bullheaded?” I echoed.

  “Aye. You are.” Taeral’s smirk turned into a wince. He almost fell back again, but he managed to catch himself. “Well, I thank you anyway,” he said to Uriskel. “I’d no idea—”

  “Yes, let’s dispense with talk of my sad little tale,” Uriskel said abruptly. “You can thank me by telling me how you’ve escaped the palace dungeon, so I’m assured that you were not followed.”

  His brow furrowed. “How did you know where I was?”

  �
��A dead guy told us,” I said. “Little Redcap bastard, big mouth. He…told us about Reun, too.”

  Taeral’s jaw clenched. “Aye, the fool. He should’ve known not to take Moirehna at her word, yet he still offered himself for me,” he said. “Gideon…any word of our father?”

  Damn, I wished I had better news. “Only that no one’s seen him.”

  “I thought as much.” Something dark flashed in his eyes. “She’ll not kill him. But she will destroy him, and soon.” He frowned and looked at Uriskel. “As to my escape, that was Levoran’s doing. One of the Unseelie Guard, my father’s lieutenant,” he said. “Even now he remains loyal to our family. He’ll suffer greatly when she discovers what he’s done,” he added in a rough whisper.

  “I suppose that’s acceptable.” Uriskel folded his arms. “Still…how soon can you move? Even with the wards, we should not linger here.”

  Sadie opened her mouth angrily, but Taeral stopped her with a shake of his head. “He is right. Her spies travel these woods, always.” He raised his hand and flexed it slowly, and I realized with a nasty start that at least two of his fingers were broken. But he hadn’t protested Sadie holding his hand. “I assume the plan is to get to the palace?” he said.

  “Aye. More or less.”

  “Well, I’m worse than useless without my arm. They’ve destroyed it.” He gritted his teeth, tried to stand, and gave up with a gasp. “I must replace it,” he said. “We’ll need every advantage if we’re to survive.”

  “I admit, that was a splendid piece of work,” Uriskel said. “Where in Arcadia did you get it?”

  Taeral gave a soft, bitter laugh. “The mirror mender.”

  “No.” Uriskel immediately backed up a step, one hand extended in protest. “Gods, no. We’re not engaging with that mad old relic. Besides, the Autumn Highlands are a three-day journey from here—and that’s under ideal conditions.”

  Okay. So the mirror mender was bad news, whoever that was.