There are no footprints. No disturbed snow. No sign that anyone has walked in or out of the space. It’s almost as if Jim just popped into existence.
Which he must have. Because I’m in Faerie, he’s back home in the city, and this is just one more time the faerie folk are messing with me.
Forget the stupid feather. I… I can’t do this.
I turn my back on the vision of my high school sweetheart.
Taking a deep, deep breath, pushing the remorse and the guilt and the sudden longing for something comfortable, something familiar out of my head—out of my heart—I start back toward the trees.
The wind rushes past me, sending the tail end of my braid over my shoulder, flapping against my back. A strand of teal hair flies free, wafting at the edge of my vision. The color is a reminder and a tease. Roughly, I push it behind my ear and take a second step.
And that’s when a voice calls after me.
But it’s not Jim’s.
“Leannán. Not leaving so soon, I hope.”
Rys.
I know better. I know it’s not real. I know that’s not him.
I turn around anyway.
He’s still wearing the prison uniform. The white material shines despite the shadows, or maybe that’s the shine coming off of his bronzed skin. His golden eyes gleam, his lips quirking just enough as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
No, he hasn’t. He can’t. It’s a lie.
The fae can’t lie.
But the shapeshifter that’s wearing the Seelie’s face—down to the scar slashing across his left cheek—isn’t fae, is it?
Still, that doesn’t stop the accusation from spilling out.
“You gave up on me.”
That’s not exactly what Saxon told me. Before he pushed me into the fairy circle, trying to send me out of this world, he confessed that Rys had knowingly sacrificed his fated mate—knowingly sacrificed me—in order to break out of Siúcra. He gave me up. And while I thought I was over it, over the way he abandoned me and left me to struggle in the Shadow Realm on my own, the way my heart aches to see him standing there tells me I was only fooling myself these last few days.
As the words are ripped out of me, I realize that that’s not how I see it at all. My accusation is so much closer to how I truly feel. He gave up on me, and even while I know the vision behind me can’t possibly be Rys, I can’t stop myself from admitting it.
Right when I thought we could’ve had something, he gave up on me—and I don’t know if I can ever really forgive him for that.
There’s still no denying how much I’m drawn to him, though. Even knowing that he’s not real, just like Jim wasn’t real, I want to move toward him. I want to touch him.
Over my head, I hear something flapping. Still staring at Rys, I don’t pay it any attention until I hear a screeching caw. It takes more effort than it should, but I look up. Grimly was right. There is a nest in the solitary tree behind Rys, but it’s empty. Circling right above me, a raven flaps its wings for a few moments before it flies off into the night.
It’s gone, but it left something behind. Drifting down in the darkness, a single feather falls at my feet.
I immediately start to bend down to grab it.
“You don’t want to do that.”
I stiffen. Rys—the real Rys—has said those same words to me before. The first day we met, when he watched me devour the faerie fruit on my plate, he broke his silence to warn me in that cocky, self-assured way he had that I didn’t want to do that. He was right, but he was also too late. Until I die, I’ll be a slave to the faerie food, and that was already true before I even stepped foot inside of the prison.
“Leave it. Forget about it. Stay in the shadows, Leannán.” His lyrical voice is so soothing, it’s like a lullaby. Against my better judgment, I feel my eyes closing. “You don’t have to go back there. Stay with me.”