Sandy Williams - The Shadow Reader

Aren’s hands cover mine. “Is it important?”

If this was anyone but Paige’s sister’s wedding, I’d say it doesn’t matter, but Amy’s marrying a lawyer who comes from a family of lawyers. He’s paying for this shindig tonight, and Paige swears he doesn’t know how to tell her sister no. Thus the formal dress and the booking of the Marbarrage Mansion.

“You’ll draw attention without it.” I pass the tie behind his neck. A shudder runs through him when the silk sweeps across his nape. I manage to ignore it and the heat of an edarratae as it tingles up my fingertips.

While I’m working on the tie, I use the added height my heels provide to peek at the tag on his jacket. Armani. Figures.

“You fae have expensive tastes.”

“ Kelia has expensive tastes,” Aren says.

“She went shopping?” Stealing is the more appropriate term, but I’ve never been one to worry much about semantics.

“She needed a distraction.”

Lorn steps up and frowns at my work. “You’re doing it wrong. That goes under, I think.”

I slap his hand away. “When did you become an expert?”

“Even a fae can tell that’s a mess.”

I glare at him. Then I whip the tie off and start again.

Aren lets out a frustrated breath. He’s having trouble standing still and his muscles are knotting up like he’s prepping for a fight, and maybe he is. Kyol might already be here somewhere, waiting for us. For me.

“Are you finished yet?” Aren asks.

I undo my sorry excuse for a knot and restart. “This would be easier if you wouldn’t move.”

Lorn says something in Fae that I don’t understand. When Aren chuckles, I make the knot exceptionally tight.

In the end, I give up. I decide it’s better to have no tie than one that’s atrociously looped and crooked.

“Just forget it,” I say and stuff the blue silk into his pocket. Maybe Paige can fix it later.

“Thank the Sidhe ,” Aren mutters unfastening the top button of his shirt. He looks at Lorn. “You can leave now.”

Lorn responds with an indulgent smile, then turns to me. “McKenzie, if you should need anything when you return to the Court, please do send a message.” With a wink, he steps back and opens a fissure.

Shadows dance when the slash of white light disappears. Aren doesn’t give me time to read them. He pulls me toward the gate that leads into the mansion’s gardens. It’s locked. He places his hand over the bolt and flares his magic. The metal glows red from the heat of his touch. Then, with one firm tug, the melted lock falls to the ground.

When the gate screeches open, he extends his hand. I accept it, but only because I have zero experience walking in high heels.

“One thing,” he says before I enter the garden. He reaches into his pocket.

I open my mouth. Close it. I don’t know what to say because the necklace is stunning. The chain is white gold, delicately linked and long enough to put the strand of thirteen diamonds right below my collarbone. The diamonds are smaller on the ends, but about the size of a nickel in the center, and, even on this moonless night, they sparkle like drops of light from a gated-fissure.

“Why are you giving me jewelry?” I manage after a moment.

A smile tugs at Aren’s lips. “It’s Kelia’s. She says you can keep it if you send Naito back to her. Otherwise, she’s promised to plant evidence linking its theft to you.”

Oh, hell. This isn’t like stealing a suit or a dress from some department store. This necklace has to cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. Not that I’m worried about Naito. Kyol would never hurt a human, not on purpose, and I’m almost certain I saw him press an anchor-stone into Naito’s palm. I told Kelia this. She just stared at me blankly until I swore I’d make sure he’s okay and that they would be together again. Guess she’s holding me to my oath now, but I don’t need the necklace as a reminder.

I push Aren’s hands away. “I don’t wear pretty things.”

“That dress is pretty. I’ve always thought dresses were impractical but this . . .” He lets his fingers trail down my side. “It clings just right. I think I like impractical.”

He makes sure he brushes my skin when he reaches behind me to fasten the necklace. His breath is warm on my neck. I don’t know if he’s having trouble with the clasp or if he’s lingering on purpose, but my body reacts to his touch. My eyes drift shut.

“Stop,” I say suddenly. “Aren, stop this.”

He fastens the clasp and removes his hands. “Stop what?”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“You want to stay with me.” He says it as if it’s fact.

I shake my head. “It’s your edarratae , Aren. That’s all. It manipulates my emotions, makes me think I want things that aren’t good for me.”

“I agree.”

“And it doesn’t matter what you . . .” Wait. “You agree?”

“Taltrayn’s not good for you.” He moves toward me. I back through the open gate and into the gardens. “The Court’s not good for you. They’ve manipulated you.”

The earth gives way to my heels. Aren reaches out, taking my arm to keep me balanced. Frustrated, I shake him off.

“What do you want from me? You want me to refuse to go? You need me to get Lena back and to have any hope of the Court letting Naito go.”

“I want you to admit I’m not the monster the Court’s made me out to be. Admit that you trust me.”

“Trust you? Are you kidding me?” I sweep my hair away from my neck and jab a finger at my scar. “You almost killed me!”

“Humans will hear you if you continue to yell.” He closes the distance between us again. “And I apologized, nalkin-shom . I’m sorry I hurt you.” He runs his fingers through my hair, combing the dark locks back over my scar. “I’m very sorry.”

“We should get to the reception.” I need to walk, need it so badly I’m shaking. He regrets what he did—I know he does—but I can’t meet his eyes when he looks at me like this. His emotions are too raw, too strong. Too confusing.

His thumbs slowly move to my pulse. “I wish we’d found you first. Your loyalty to Taltrayn . . . It’s astounding.”

“Aren—”

“I know,” he says, taking a step back. “I know.”

He doesn’t press further. He keeps his distance, staying a foot or two away as we turn and walk through the gardens. The night air cools the heat in my skin. I keep my eyes off Aren and focus instead on the wedding guests who are outside enjoying the weather. I try to watch them without looking like I’m watching. I’m always paranoid when I’m with a fae around humans, even when the fae chooses to be visible. Since 99.9 percent of the population doesn’t have the Sight, most people still won’t be able to see his chaos lusters, but that .1 percent chance still worries me.

The landscaper who designed this garden could rival King Atroth’s, but instead of being accented by magic, lights shine on bursts of colorful flowers, on meticulously shaped hedges, and the occasional tree or decorative boulder. A string of lights lines both sides of our footpath. The simple tech plays with Aren’s edarratae . Not much. Just enough to draw my attention. I wish I didn’t like looking at him. I wish I wasn’t comfortable by his side.

A cool mist tickles my skin as we pass a stone fountain. A lion, its mouth open in a roar, plunges through a curtain of water. We walk behind it, heading to the steps that lead to the reception. It’s not until the first notes of music reach our ears that Aren stiffens. He’s still moving forward, but his gait loses some of its confidence.

“You can wait out here if you want,” I say, climbing the steps, hoping I look somewhat steady and graceful in these damn heels.