understood what he was being told.
“Why didn’t you tell him who I was?” Jessica asked, looking after them.
“The help always gossips,” Cullen said. “I want to get us out of here quickly, without attracting too much attention.”
“Couldn’t you have told him that?” Jessica asked.
He paused and looked at her strangely for a moment.
“Yes, I suppose I could. But I doubt it would have made any difference. Goblins love a good story.”
“I guess you know them better than I do,” she said, not entirely sure she believed it.
“Come, let’s get inside and grab what we need,” Cullen said. “Before he alerts the rest of the staff.”
They headed to the double walnut doors. The entrance was tall enough that it looked more like they were entering a museum than a home.
Once inside, she had to wait for her eyes to adjust to the gloom.
The foyer had a stone floor and a walk-in fireplace. A single chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a dim light over the space.
“Upstairs,” Cullen said.
But there was an uneven patter of steps from the hall beyond.
“Cullen?” a quavering voice called out hopefully.
He sighed and waited.
A wizened woman appeared in the foyer. She was tall and slender, like Cullen, but bent slightly. Her hair was white as snow.
“Hello, nanny,” Cullen said patiently.
She beheld him with tears in her eyes. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she said in a low, intense voice. “You’ve come home.”
She held out her scrawny arms to him.
He went to her reluctantly, allowing himself to be embraced for just a moment before pulling back.
“I thought I would never see you again,” nanny said, sniffing a little. “Your parents said you would never return.”
“My parents were wrong about a lot of things,” Cullen said darkly.
“Not your old nanny though,” she said with a mischievous smile. “I always believed in you, boy. Even when you were knee-high to a sprite and gave me nothing but trouble.”
“I have to get some things from upstairs,” he said.
Jessica gazed up at him in horror. Was he really not going to ask a single question or share a kind word with this woman who had clearly raised him?
Something tickled at the back of Jessica’s mind, a memory trying to surface.
“Of course,” Nanny said, throwing her hands up in surrender. “I’ll wait here with your bride-to-be.” She smiled warmly at Jessica. “Maybe you’ll need a nanny for your own little ones before long.”
Jessica smiled back, wondering what this sweet woman would make of the mortal world. She could hardly picture her pushing a stroller to the Tarker’s Hollow tot lot. But she was practically family to Cullen, so Jessica was sure she would do her best to fit in.
“She’s coming upstairs with me,” Cullen said. “We really don’t have time.”
“Go on then,” the old woman said kindly. “I’m glad you had a moment to say hello. Keep safe in your travels, my dark angel.”
Cullen took Jessica by the hand and half dragged her up the stone stairs.
“Why didn’t you talk with her for a minute?” Jessica asked. “She misses you. She loves you.”
“No one in this place loves anyone else,” Cullen said flatly. “Everything in faerie is transactional. You only give in order to get. You of all people should know that by now.”
Jessica recoiled, and he seemed to take notice.
“Not between us,” he amended, his voice gentler. “But everything else. We need to get back to your realm. It’s easier there.”
She couldn’t help noticing he had said easier, not better.
But they had reached a hallway and he was dashing into the first door on their left.
She followed more slowly.
The room overlooked the forest to one side of the castle. A single bed stood in the center, surrounded by bookcases covered in volumes.
Cullen searched the shelves and pulled out a small, cloth bound book with a picture of a murder of crows imprinted on its cover.
“This is Dorian’s,” he said, tucking it in his pocket.
They continued back into the hallway and then into another door.
This room faced the courtyard and was filled with fiery dawn light, which reflected in the mirrors and transom.
A tiny crystal figure of an owl hung in the window, collecting the light and spreading it into the room in a thousand tiny rainbows. Cullen snatched it down.
She waited for him to remove a string, but she realized it never had one. It must have been hung using some sort of charm or enchantment.
“Tristan’s,” he said, shoving the figurine into his pocket and heading back to the hallway.
The third room