Shadowspell

He smiled at me, then crouched and reached out his hand to the stag. It leapt onto his palm, and he stood up, closing his hand around the little statue. I remembered the sharpness of the antlers and wondered how the Erlking managed to hold it without drawing blood.

When he was fully upright again, the Erlking opened his hand; there was no longer a statue in it. Instead, there was a delicate silver brooch in the shape of a leaping stag. It didn’t exactly match the Erlking’s mark, but it was close.

“My gift to you,” he said, raising his hand and indicating I should take the brooch.

Of course, I hesitated. I had no desire to take anything from him, much less something that was basically his emblem.

One corner of his mouth tipped up in a half smile. “You do not have to wear it. But there may be times you will find it useful.” He turned the brooch over, showing me the pin. “If you need to make yourself unseen, prick your finger on this.” He touched the point, and a spot of blood beaded on his fingertip. “The spell will wear off in thirty minutes, but while it’s active, no one will see, hear, or feel you, even if they bump into you.” He put his finger into his mouth, sucking off the little drop of blood, and held the brooch out to me again.

I still didn’t want to take it, but I didn’t think he’d take it kindly if I refused. I picked it up gingerly, as if afraid it would bite, then stuffed it into the pocket of my jeans. If he thought I was going to thank him for his nice gift, he was sorely mistaken.

He opened the door wider. “Come in, come in,” he said. “You must be cold.”

The power of suggestion had my teeth chattering again, and I stepped into the Erlking’s house. I had to stop myself from gawking as soon as I did. House wasn’t the right word for the building I’d stepped into. Palace probably fit it better, though it was like no palace I’d ever seen.

The floor of the entryway was black marble, shiny as glass, not a scuff mark in sight. The walls were covered in black and silver–striped wallpaper that had the texture of raw silk. From the ceiling hung faceted crystals in varying shapes and sizes, so dense it was impossible to see the source of the light that shone from behind them. The Erlking reached up and brushed his fingers over the crystals, showing off that he was tall enough to reach the ceiling. The crystals clinked together like wind chimes, the sound echoing off the marble.

Past the foyer, the ceiling rose up into a dome, painted night-black and dotted with tiny white lights like stars. A grand staircase like you might see in Gone with the Wind led to a second-floor balcony, almost completely hidden in shadow. The inside of this building seemed a lot larger than the outside had indicated, and the shadowed hallways upstairs made it seem positively vast.

“Cozy,” I muttered under my breath, and the Erlking smiled.

“This is home to myself and all of my Huntsmen whenever we are in Avalon. Cozy would not suit us.”

My heart leapt at the realization that Ethan must be here, hidden in the depths of this house. I wondered if he was installed in a comfortable room somewhere, or if he and the rest of the Huntsmen resided in some old-fashioned, cramped servants’ quarters up in the rafters. It then occurred to me that for all I knew, the Erlking kept them chained in a dungeon, and I decided to abandon that line of thought.

The Erlking led me down a long marble hallway and into a room that I suspected he called a “parlor.” Like everything I had seen so far, it was decorated entirely in black and silver, and if it weren’t for the color of the Erlking’s skin and eyes, I might have wondered if I had suddenly been struck color blind.

I shivered again, the chill having sunk all the way down to my bones. The Erlking frowned, then gestured to the fireplace, which suddenly burst into flame. I jumped, then blushed at my reaction. Duh, magical, mythical creature can do magic! What a surprise.

“Come sit by the fire and warm up,” he said, gesturing me toward an armchair covered in black silk with silver embroidery. “I will have some coffee brought in.” He grinned at me, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “You are not overly fond of tea, I hear.”

I stiffened, knowing exactly where he’d gotten that little bit of knowledge. “Thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. I hated to show that he’d wounded me, but my emotions were too raw to hide. I turned my back to him so he couldn’t see my face, and I headed toward the chair as I tried to compose myself.

When I sat down, the Erlking took the other seat in front of the fire, pulling a small ebony table over so that it sat between us. Footsteps echoed in the hall behind me, and I turned to see who was coming. But the predatory look in the Erlking’s eyes told me everything I needed to know, even before Ethan turned the corner and stepped into the room.

He was dressed like a Huntsman now, wearing nothing but black, head to toe. The Erlking’s mark stood out starkly against his pale skin. In his hands, he carried a silver tray on which sat a tea set. He met my eyes briefly, and the despair in his expression sent a sharp pain knifing through my heart—just as the Erlking no doubt planned.

Ethan broke eye contact, then braced the tray with one arm and began unloading the tea service onto the table. I could feel the Erlking watching me, soaking in my pain. I tried my best to keep my expression neutral, but I doubt I managed it.

Ethan took one last item off the tray and held it out to me. It was a mug of coffee, just as the Erlking had promised. I tried to catch Ethan’s gaze again, hoping I could convey to him without words that I was going to get him out of here. Somehow. But he kept his head bowed and wouldn’t look at me.