Shadowspell

I didn’t know what to say. I knew Ethan had a reputation as a player. And I’d seen for myself how easily he turned on the charm—and how determined he was to get his way once he’d set his sights on someone. But there was more to him than that, I was sure of that. Much more.

“He saved my life,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “He jumped into the moat when Grace threw me over. He knew all about the Water Witches, and he jumped in anyway.”

Keane made a sound of frustration and leapt to his feet, quickly turning his back on me. I remembered how he’d failed to visit me while I was in the hospital recuperating from the Water Witch’s attack. I’d been puzzled by it at the time, but now I wondered if maybe he’d been pissed off because I’d run off with Ethan. Not that there’d been anything romantic about it, though I supposed Keane couldn’t know that.

“Would you rather he’d let the Water Witch get me?” I asked Keane’s back.

He turned to look at me again. “Of course not. I’m glad he was there, and I’m glad he saved you. I despise him, but I won’t claim he has no redeeming features. I just…” He shook his head, then bent to start rolling up the mats.

“You just what?” I asked.

He continued rolling. “Let it go, Dana.”

“No. You’re the one who came into my home and started saying hateful things about a guy who got captured by the Wild Hunt because he was trying to defend me. If you’re going to start something, you’re sure as hell going to finish it.”

He shoved the rolled-up mat out of the way so hard it bounced off the wall. He was still kneeling on the floor as he turned to glare at me. It was a weird expression, because as pissed off as he looked, there was also a world of pain in his eyes, pain I didn’t understand.

Something clicked in my brain, and I winced in sudden sympathy. “One of those girls Ethan went after in school was your girlfriend, right?” That would certainly explain the level of rivalry I’d seen between the two of them.

Keane neither confirmed nor denied my guess, but I knew I was right. Eventually, the intensity of his eyes was too much, and I let my gaze slide away. When I looked up again, it was to see Keane’s back as he left without another word.

Chapter thirteen

After Keane left, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut and had my lesson, even if it meant getting my butt kicked and making embarrassingly stupid mistakes. While we’d been sparring, there hadn’t been enough time for me to brood about Ethan. Plus, even though it hurt, I had to admit that in my current state of mind it felt kinda good to hit things.

Once Keane was gone, I couldn’t get my brain to shut up. Wave after wave of guilt beat at me, especially because I still couldn’t get myself to pick up the phone and call Kimber. We were best friends, and she had to be hurting. Her father had made no secret of the fact that he loved Ethan more, because Ethan was the magical prodigy. I doubted she was getting a whole lot of paternal comfort right now. She needed me, but I was too much of a coward to face her.

In an attempt to keep my mind occupied with anything other than Ethan, I tried once more to learn how to use magic. My voice was weak and quavery, but I felt the magic come to me before I’d even finished the first scale. I tried to feel excited at the improvement, but it was too hard to be impressed when I couldn’t cast even the simplest spell.

Eventually, I gave up in disgust. Maybe my affinity with magic went no further than being able to sense it and call it. Maybe all the practice in the world was futile. I wished I’d decided to trust Ethan and asked him to teach me magic. Now I’d never get the chance …

I shook my head to try to erase that thought from my mind. Ethan was not going to be a permanent member of the Wild Hunt. His father was a powerful man. Maybe he’d be able to find a way to reason with the Erlking where my father had not. There had to be something someone could do.

Having grown up as the only responsible member of my household, one lesson I’d learned at an early age was that I couldn’t really count on anyone other than myself. If I wanted to make sure we had electricity, I had to pay the bill myself. If my mom hurt herself and had to go to the emergency room, I had to get her there myself.

I remember one time when I was maybe six or seven, and my mom got a horrible case of food poisoning. She was so sick, I thought she was going to die. I wanted to call 911, but Mom said she wasn’t that sick. Back then, I was still young enough to think I had to do as I was told.

I’d tried to get one of our relatively friendly neighbors to drive us to the hospital, but she wouldn’t. I don’t remember what the excuse was, but even then, I suspected the true reason she’d refused was because she didn’t want my mom puking in her car. I’d eventually had to call a cab, and then practically drag my mom down the stairs to get her in. She was too out of it—I think she was drunk as well as sick—to pay the driver, and when I’d dug through her purse for money, I’d found only a couple of dollars. I still remember the sound of that driver’s voice as he yelled at us, cursing and furious at being “cheated” of his fare.

When I’d come to Avalon, I’d been hoping that I would find in my father someone I could finally count on, someone who would take charge and fix problems for me. But I realized, in one of those peculiar moments of clarity I’d been having lately, that if anyone was going to save Ethan from the Wild Hunt, it would have to be me. I’d be pleasantly surprised if Ethan’s father managed to do it himself, but it was time for me to stop hoping someone else would step up to the plate.