“WE MUST ACT SOON. THE SCEPTER IS GETTING FARTHER AND FARTHER AWAY, WHILE WE SIT HERE AND DO NOTHING. HOW CAN WE TRUST THIS
LEANANSIDHE? WHAT IF SHE IS KEEPING US HERE BECAUSE SHE WANTS THE
SCEPTER FOR HERSEL—?”
“Shh! Ironhorse, be quiet,” I hissed, and he immediately fell silent, looking as contrite as his expressionless face would allow. “You can’t say those things out loud. She could hear you, or her spies could rat us out. I’m pretty sure she has them watching our every move.”
A quick glance around the library revealed nothing, but I could still feel eyes on me, peering unseen from cracks and shadows. “She already has it in for all Iron fey. Don’t add to it.”
“MY APOLOGIES, PRINCESS.” Ironhorse bowed his head. “I CANNOT
ABIDE THIS WAITING. I FEEL AS IF I SHOULD BE DOING SOMETHING, BUT I AM
USELESS TO YOU HERE.”
“I know how you feel,” I told him, placing a hand on his bulky arm. His skin was hot to the touch, and the tendons beneath were like solid steel. “I want to get out of here, too. But we have to be patient. Puck and Grim are out there—they’ll let us know if anything turns up or if we have to leave.”
He looked unhappy, but nodded. I sighed with relief and hoped Leanansidhe’s spies found something soon, before Ironhorse started tearing down the walls. The door banged open, and we both jumped, but it was only a human, the scruffy piano player we’d seen when we first came to the mansion. He ambled into the room, blank eyes scanning the floor, until they spotted me. With an empty smile, he stumbled forward, but stopped when he saw the huge Iron faery kneeling in front of me. Ironhorse rose with a growl, but I smacked his arm, wincing as the rock-hard bicep bruised my knuckles. “It’s all right,” I told him when he gave me a puzzled look. “I don’t think he’ll hurt me. He looks pretty harmless.”
Ironhorse gave the human a suspicious glare and snorted. “IF YOU NEED
ME…”
“I’ll yell.”
He nodded, shot the man one last dark look, and retreated to the other side of the room to glower at us.
With Ironhorse at a distance, the man seemed to relax. He inched up to the couch and perched on the edge, staring at me curiously. I smiled at him over my book. He seemed much calmer now, not so crazy. His eyes were clear, though the way he stared at me, unblinking, was making me a bit uncomfortable.
“Hi,” I greeted, squirming a bit under that unrelenting gaze. “You’re Charles, aren’t you? I heard your playing earlier. You’re really good.”
He gave me a confused frown, tilting his head. “You heard me…play?” he murmured, his voice surprisingly clear and deep. “I don’t…remember that.”
I nodded. “In the foyer. When we first came here. You were playing for Leanansidhe and we heard the end of it.”
“I don’t remember,” he said again, scratching his head. “I don’t remember a lot of things.” He blinked and looked up at me, suddenly contemplative. “But…I remember you. Isn’t that strange?”
I glanced at Ironhorse, hovering in the corner and pretending not to listen to us. “How long have you been here, Charles?”
He frowned, scrunching his forehead. His face, though lined and worn, was curiously childlike. “I…I’ve always been here.”
“They can’t remember anything.” Grimalkin popped into existence on the back of the couch, waving his tail. I started and dropped my book, but Charles simply looked at the cat, as if he had seen far stranger. “He’s been here too long,” Grimalkin continued, sitting down and curling his tail around his legs. “That’s what being in Faery does to mortals. This one’s forgotten everything about his life before. Same as all the other mortals wandering around this place.”
“Hi, kitty,” muttered Charles, reaching a hand toward Grimalkin. Grimalkin bristled and stalked to the other end of the couch.
“How many of them are there?” I asked.
“Humans?” Grimalkin licked a paw, still keeping a wary eye on Charles. “Not so many. A dozen or so, I’d guess. All great artists—poets or painters or other such nonsense.”
He sniffed and scrubbed the paw over his face. “That’s what keeps this place alive, all that creative energy and glamour. Not even the redcaps will lay a finger on them.”
“How can she keep them here?” I asked, but Grimalkin yawned and settled down on the couch back, burying his nose in his tail and closing his eyes. Apparently, he was done answering questions. I’d poke him, but he would just swat me or disappear.
“Here you are, darlings.” Leanansidhe breezed into the room, trailing a gauzy black dress and shawl behind her. “I’m so glad I caught you before I left. Charles, darling, I must speak with my guests now. Shoo shoo.” She fluttered her hands, and with a last glance at me Charles slipped off the couch and out the door.
“You’re leaving?” I eyed her dress and purse. “Why?”
“Have you seen Puck, darling?” Leanansidhe gazed around the library, ignoring my question. “We need to have a little chitchat. Cook has been complaining that certain dinner items keep going missing, the head maid is mysteriously in love with a coatrack, and my butler has been chasing mice around the foyer all evening.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. “Anyway, darling. If you see Puck, be a dear and tell him to reverse the glamour on my poor maid, and to please stop stealing cakes from the oven before Cook has a meltdown. I shudder to think of what I might return to, but I simply cannot stay.”
“Where are you going?”
“Me? I’m off to Nashville, darling. Some brilliant young songwriter is in need of inspiration. It’s horrible to be so blocked, but not to worry. Soon, everyone will be in love with his muuuusic.” She sang the last word, and I bit my lip to kill the urge to dance. Leanansidhe went on without notice. “Also, I need to pay a visit to a night hag, see if she has any information for us. I’ll be back in a day or two, human time. Ciao, darling.”
She waggled her fingers at me and vanished in a swirl of glitter. I blinked and fought the urge to sneeze.
“Show-off,” Puck muttered, appearing from behind one of the bookshelves, as if he’d been waiting for her to leave. He crossed the room to perch on the armrest, rolling his eyes. “She could’ve left without all the sparkly. But then, Lea always knew how to make an exit.”
“BUT SHE IS GONE.” Ironhorse hurried over, looking around as if he feared Leanansidhe was really hiding behind one of the chairs in the room, listening to him. “SHE IS
GONE, AND WE CAN FIND A WAY OUT OF HERE.”
“And do what, exactly?” Grimalkin raised his head and gave him a scornful look. “We still do not know where the scepter is. We would only be announcing our presence to the enemy and lowering our chances of finding it.”
“Furball’s right, unfortunately,” Puck sighed. “Lea’s not the easiest fey to deal with, but she’s true to her word, and she has the best chance of finding the scepter. We should stay put until we actually know where it is.”
“SO.” Ironhorse crossed his massive arms, his eyes smoldering heat and fury.
“THAT IS THE PLAN FROM THE GREAT ROBIN GOODFELLOW. WE SIT HERE AND
DO NOTHING.”
“And what’s your brilliant plan, Rusty? Go clomping off to the city and poke our noses into every major corporation until the scepter falls on our heads?”
“PRINCESS.” Ironhorse turned to me. “THIS IS FOOLISH. WHY WAIT
HERE ANY LONGER? DON’T YOU WANT TO FIND THE SCEPTER? DON’T YOU
WANT TO FIND PRINCE ASH—”
“Stop right there.” My voice dropped a few degrees, and maybe Ironhorse heard the warning in it because he quickly shut up. I stood, clenching my fists. “Don’t you dare bring Ash into this,” I hissed, making him take a step back. “Yes, I want to find him—he’s on my mind every single day. But I can’t, because we have to find the scepter first. And even if the scepter wasn’t an issue, I still couldn’t do anything about Ash because he doesn’t want to be found. Not by me. He made that perfectly clear last I saw him.” My throat started to close up, and I took a shaky breath to fight it. “So, the answer to your question is, yes, I want to find Ash. But I can’t. Because the damn scepter is more important. And I’m not gonna screw up just because you can’t sit still for two damn minutes.” Tears welled, and I blinked angrily, aware that all three were staring like my head was on fire. I couldn’t tell what Ironhorse was thinking behind that expressionless mask, but Grimalkin looked bored, and Puck’s face was balanced between jealousy and pity.
Which pissed me off even more.
“Meghan,” Puck began, but I spun around and stormed out before I really started bawling. He called after me, but I ignored him, swearing that if he grabbed me or got in my way he would get an earful.
“Let her go,” I heard Grimalkin say as I bashed the door open. “She would not hear you now, Goodfellow. She wants only him.”
The door swung shut behind me, and I stomped down the hall, fighting angry tears.
It wasn’t fair. I was tired of being responsible, tired of making the hard decisions because it was the right thing to do. I wanted nothing more than to find Ash and beg him to reconsider. We could be together; we could find a way to make it work if we tried hard enough, screw the consequences. And the scepter.
The hallways stretched on, each one similar to the last: narrow, dark and red. I didn’t know where I was going, and I didn’t really care. I just wanted to get away from Puck and Ironhorse, to be alone with my selfish wishes for a while. Statues, paintings and musical instruments lined the corridors; some of them vibrated softly as I passed, faint shivers of music hanging on the air.
Finally, I sank down beside a harp, ignoring a piskie that watched from the end of the hall, and buried my face in my hands.
Ash. I miss you.
My eyes stung. I swiped at them angrily, determined not to cry. The harp thrummed in my ear, sounding curious and sympathetic. Idly, I drew my finger across the strings, and it released a mournful, shivery note that echoed down the hall. Another chord answered it, and another. I raised my head and listened as the low, faint strains of piano music drifted into the corridor. The song was dark, haunting and strangely familiar. Wiping my eyes, I stood and followed it, down the twisted hallways, past instruments that hummed and added their voices to the melody.
The song led me to pair of dark red doors with gilded handles. Beyond the wood, it sounded like a symphony was in full swing. Cautiously, I pushed the doors open and stepped into a large, circular red room.
Waves of music flowed over me. The room was full of instruments: harps and cellos and violins, along with a few guitars and even a ukulele. In the middle of the room, Charles sat hunched over the keys of a baby grand piano, eyes closed as his fingers flew over the instrument. Along the walls, the other instruments thrummed and trilled and lent their strains to the melody, turning the cacophony into something pure and wondrous. The music was a living thing, swirling around the room, dark and eerie and haunted, bringing new tears to my eyes. I sank onto a red velvet couch and gave in to my churning emotions. I know this song.