“I prefer to pick the lock.”
She nodded. “That will work as well.”
“For how long,” Sebastian asked, sipping his drink in an attempt to disguise his interest.
“Forever,” Maeve said with conviction.
There had to be a catch.
“What do you want me to do?”
Maeve conjured a small box from her sleeve. It looked like a jeweler’s box for a ring. Not just any ring, either, a dinner ring set with diamonds or a large engagement ring. She offered it to Sebastian, who took it and opened it.
Instead of the anticipated ring, a wicked-looking sliver gleamed on the red velvet interior. It was sharp at both ends, about half an inch long, and appeared to be made of glass.
“Replace it,” Maeve said, then smiled. “That’s all. Just put the splinter back.”
An assassin for the Fae wasn’t exactly an innocent caught in a web of Maeve’s design. She’d killed any number of victims. Sebastian didn’t have any immediate scruples about accepting the wager.
Beyond distrusting Maeve.
“Why don’t you do it yourself?” he asked, keeping his tone idle.
“She’ll be wary of me or the Fae. She’s in the middle of a Pyr firestorm and it’s messing with her ideas. You know how dragons are, always challenging preconceptions.”
“I do.” Sebastian found himself inclined to accept the terms. “How will I find her?”
“I’ll give you directions.” Maeve shrugged and finished her drink. “Who knows? You might even enjoy it. I know how you enjoy setting all the pieces in motion.”
There was that.
Alasdair continued his tale of Hadrian’s parents. “Finally, Notus landed in the forest he knew best, in Northumberland. He intended to find shelter and sleep, for he was weary to his marrow and disheartened that he couldn’t find Argenta. Instead he heard the sound of tears. He followed the sound to a humble cottage, which was almost in ruins. A man sat outside it beneath the light of the moon, weeping as if his heart had broken in two. The man roused himself at the sight of Notus and, taking him for a weary traveler, offered to share his last pot of porridge.”
The cottage was small and in disrepair, although Rania thought there was another building behind it. The man had silver in his hair and in his beard, but he looked strong and hale. He also looked as disheartened as Notus.
“Notus had found the home of a blacksmith, who had been captured by the Fae to do service to them. He’d entered the hall under a mound and thought he had only been there a few days. Upon his release, he returned home to find that he’d been gone twenty-five years. His wife and children were gone. His larder was bare and his vegetable garden was overgrown. His hut was falling down. All he had were his tools, for he had been ordered to bring them to Fae, but he couldn’t light a fire to work. Even the last of his firewood had been taken. He’d made the porridge with the last of the grain and water from the river, and it was both cold and gritty.”
Rania felt sympathy for the blacksmith, and admired his generosity in sharing what little he had.
Then she thought about that: she was feeling kindness toward a blacksmith.
What was happening to her?
“It was a good site, though,” Alasdair said. “Notus could see as much, with the river bending around it. The river itself was broad and seemed to sing as it passed over the stones beside the cottage. The forest was thick and he spied game within it; the sky overhead was clear and the wind was cool. The blacksmith said his people had been there since the beginning of time, and they laughed about that. Notus offered to stay and help the blacksmith to rebuild his life and the next morning, they worked together to re-thatch the roof. The blacksmith’s name was Darian and they two became good friends.”
Rania saw the two of them on the roof in the morning sunlight. A young boy came out of the forest to stare at them in silence, then ran back into the woods.
“Notus was there when word of Darian’s return reached the closest village, when people came to look, when Darian’s son, now a man, came to tell him of his wife’s death.” Rania blinked back her tears at the sight of the smith’s reunion with his grown son and his grief at hearing of his wife’s death. “The son brought metal for his father to work, bits and ends he’d foraged, for he had little coin himself. He had married the daughter of a farmer and worked their family’s plot with her father and brother. When Darian bemoaned the lack of fuel after his son’s departure, Notus chose to reveal himself.”
Rania saw the two men talking, then the blacksmith’s frown of surprise. Notus stood up and shimmered blue, then shifted shape.
“Darian wasn’t as astonished as Notus might have expected, but then the blacksmith had been to Fae and seen many marvels. Notus breathed fire in his smithy, heating the forge so Darian could work. The blacksmith took the scraps his son had brought and turned them into marvels, inspired by the wonders he had seen. He made latches and knockers and cooking utensils; he made hooks and clasps for cloaks and marvels of every shape and size. Every item he made was distinctive, both beautiful and functional. On market day, he loaded up his work and went to town, leaving Notus to finish the repairs on the cottage. Darian returned jubilant that night, with a load more metal, a fat purse, and a chicken for their dinner. He told Notus that the items made with dragonfire fetched prices beyond compare, and the two settled into partnership together.”
The vision spun, showing the passing of time and the cycle of the seasons. The hut gradually became a little finer, a little larger, and the blacksmith became a little plumper. Darian was singing at the forge when the vision settled, Notus breathing a splendid torrent of orange fire.
“Gradually, Darian began to tell Notus about Fae. He said it was filled with such wonders that even a dragon couldn’t surprise him, and listed many of them. He told Notus that there was even a maiden there who could spin ice into strands of silver. Notus, shocked at this news of Argenta, shifted shape immediately and demanded to know how to get into Fae. He confided the truth in Darian, who then wanted to help his friend save his beloved. He told Notus all he knew of Fae, advised him to avoid all food and drink, then showed him the hill where he had entered that magickal realm. On the next full moon, they went to the mound, and both could hear the Fae music from within. The sound made Darian shudder with dread and he couldn’t approach any closer.”
Rania saw the hill and the light spilling from a door in its side, then she heard the wild merry music of Fae. Notus shook hands with Darian and walked toward the portal that shone with welcoming golden light. Rania knew he was making a mistake but it was impossible to warn him. She saw that Darian believed the same thing, and that his new friend would be lost forever.
“Notus entered the Dark Queen’s realm willingly, in pursuit of Argenta, and though he tried to be stealthy, he was soon discovered. His true nature was discerned by Maeve and he was put to work, trapped in his dragon form to breathe fire for the forge of a maiden silversmith. This maiden was the daughter of a silversmith: she had volunteered to go to Fae in her father’s stead when the Fae came for him, because her father was ill. Her name was Loreena and she was young, strong and lovely. She was compelled to work rivers of silver into jewelry for the Fae, into dagger hilts and even blades. Loreena had thought she would be only a night in Fae and, by her own accounting, it had been a year and a day. She feared this was only an increment of the truth, for she had heard tales of Fae before. She confided in Notus that she suspected everyone she knew in the mortal realm was dead. He tried to console her but could only breathe more fire for her work and hope that one day her debt to the Dark Queen would be paid.”