Patricia Briggs - Silver Borne

Samuel bowed his head and, to the floor, he said, “I’m glad you are well—and apologize for causing your panic attack today. I should have stayed out . . .”

“Yes. Panic attacks. They can be pretty . . .” She looked at Zee, who was back in his chair looking as relaxed as if he’d spent the last ten minutes watching a very boring soap opera. “Did I hurt anyone, Siebold?”

“No,” he said, folding his arms. “Just true-named our wolf, and told Mercedes and Jesse the story of the Silver Borne.”

She looked at me, then at Jesse, maybe to see how frightened we were. Whatever she saw reassured her because she gave a shy smile.

“Oh, that’s good. Good.” Her shoulders relaxed, and she turned her attention back to Samuel. “I don’t have them often anymore. Not at all with mortal canines. It’s just the fae dogs, the magic ones—black dogs and hounds—that set me off. Only when I am overcome with—” She bit her lip.

“Fear?” Samuel suggested, and she didn’t answer. She also had left off werewolves, I noticed.

“I am glad to see that your magic has returned,” he said. “You thought it was gone.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes. And for a while I was glad of it.” She looked at me. “And that has bearing on the present situation. You are Samuel’s friend, Mercedes?”

“And mate of the local Alpha werewolf—Jesse’s father,” I told her. I could hardly tell her that Samuel was single—that was a little too obvious. I saw that it mattered to her that Samuel didn’t belong to me.

“You were going to—” I was so caught up in matchmaking that I almost flubbed it then and there. I shut my mouth and grabbed Jesse’s hand.

“—help us find Gabriel.” Jesse completed my sentence for me.

Ariana didn’t move like a human at all when she came back to where we sat, with her chair in hand; she moved like a . . . wolf, bold and graceful and strong. Without a glance at Samuel, she sat down.

“Ask her about the thing the fairy queen wants,” I told Jesse.

“Zee said she wants the Silver Borne,” Ariana said. “That is the object of power I built for my father—although it never quite worked as the one who commissioned it would have liked. For many years I thought I had destroyed all my magic by making it.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “I lived as a human, except for my long life span. I married, had children . . .” She glanced at Samuel, who was looking over our heads and out the window. His face was composed, but I could see the pulse beating fast in his throat.

Ariana continued her story quickly. “It took me nearly a century to make the connection between my lack of magic and the Silver Borne.”

She gave me a wry smile. “I know. I had no magic anymore, and the last thing I made was something that was supposed to eat magic. You’d think I’d have made the connection. But all I knew was that it wasn’t finished . . . and I couldn’t remember how far I’d gotten when my father called the wolves. After a while it was not as important to me—it was only a broken thing that did nothing. Someone stole it, and I thought, good riddance. I left it to them, and after a few months my magic returned. It was then that I first understood I’d succeeded, in part. It does consume fae magic—but mostly just the magic of the person who currently possesses it.”

“Why would a fairy queen want it, then?” I asked, then added a belated, “Jesse?”

“It eats fae magic, Mercy,” said Zee. “How easy to change a formidable opponent to someone more vulnerable than a human—at least a human knows he has no power. Dueling is still allowed among the fae.”

“Or maybe she doesn’t really understand what it does,” suggested Ariana. “She could believe it does as it was built to do: take power from one fae and give it to another. I’ve heard the stories—and I do not bother to correct them. Now I have answered a question, I have one for you. Mercy, did Phin give that book to you?”

I took in a breath to answer, and Jesse clamped her hand over my mouth and jumped in. “It would work better if you ask me,” she said. “Then it would be less likely that Mercy breaks her word.” She dropped her hand. “Did Phin give you the book?”

“But what does the book have to do with it?”

“Glamour,” said Samuel suddenly. “By all that’s holy, Ari, how did you manage to do that? You disguised that thing as a book, and you gave it to your grandson?”

“He is mostly human,” she answered him without looking his way. “And I told him to keep it locked away so it wouldn’t eat the magic he has.”

“What if he’d sold it?” I asked. “Jesse?”

“It is my blood that it was born in,” Ariana said. “It finds its way back to me eventually. Jesse, please ask her. Did Phin give you the book?”

“No. I might have bought it if I could have afforded—” I stopped talking because she slumped down and put both hands over her face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ariana said, hiccuping and wiping her face with her hands. Samuel surged toward her, then stopped where he was. She’d flinched, just a little.

“It’s just been such a . . . I was so sure Phin was dead—that they’d killed him trying to get it, and it would be my fault.” She wiped her eyes again. “I’m not usually like this, but Phin is . . . I adore Phin. He is so much like my son who I lost a long time ago . . . And I thought he was dead.”

“Now you know he lives?” Samuel asked.

“In fire or in death,” Jesse said, understanding it before any of the rest of us did. “That’s what the fairy queen said. That if she killed Mercy, or if they burned it, it would reveal itself. But if it still belongs to Phin . . .”

“If they had killed him, the Silver Borne would have revealed itself to them,” Ariana agreed. “They wouldn’t still be looking for it.”

“Why did you make it that way?” asked Jesse.

Ariana smiled at her. “I didn’t. But things of power . . . evolve around the limits they are given. That’s why, even though I thought it did nothing, I kept it with me. Because even unfinished, it was a thing of power.”

“How did you figure out that it . . . Oh.” There was comprehension in Jesse’s voice.

“Right. It’s a very old thing, and many of its owners have died in various ways. The fire thing came later.” Her face grew contemplative. “And quite spectacularly.”

“Aren’t you its owner?” Jesse asked.

“Not if I want to keep my magic—I’m only its maker. That’s why it’s called the Silver Borne.”

“Ariana means silver in Welsh.” Samuel sat down on the floor and leaned against the end of the nearest metal shelving unit. He’d had a rough couple of days, too—but I hoped that Ariana’s obvious fear of him wouldn’t send him sliding back into despair.

“Jesse,” I said. “Ask her how we find Gabriel.”

“What did you bring me that belongs to this young man?” Jesse handed her a white plastic bag. “It’s a sweater he loaned me when I was cold.”

“Phin told me that his magic was that he could sometimes feel things from objects,” I said. “Things like how old an object is. Psychometry.”

“Something he inherited from me.” Ariana pulled the sweater out and put it against her face. “Oh dear. This won’t work.”

“Why not?” Samuel asked. “It is his. I can smell his scent on it from here.”

“I don’t work off scents,” she told him, her eyes on the sweater. “I work off ties, the threads that bind us to those things that are ours.” She looked at Jesse. “This sweater means far more to you, as a gift of love, than it did to him when he wore it. So I can use it to find you, but not him.” She hesitated. “Does he feel the same way about you?”