Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,33

response. “His usefulness is drawing to a close. Once I get what I need, all that will remain is choosing the most amusing method of his disposal.”

A niggle of disquiet sparked in the back of her mind, but it vanished in a tide of choking panic. Morran was beyond her help, completely at Juradoc’s mercy.

“Of course, that leaves you and me to finish our business,” he continued with the same false good humor. “Twice, our gallant prince interrupted your dance with his tantrums. It won’t happen a third time.”

Leena forced a breath past the iron bands of terror squeezing her ribs. “Understood.”

“A showman to the last,” Juradoc replied. “You honor your kin.”

Despite herself, Leena glanced at Fionn, betrayal ripping at her guts. Too late, she realized her pain was exactly what the Shade wanted.

“And since he is present for your final performance, it is only fitting that you are here for his grand triumph. You shall witness the fulfillment of your brother’s dreams.” With a flick of his gloved hand, Juradoc beckoned Fionn forward.

Her brother approached, moving like a sleepwalker.

“No,” Leena murmured. Fionn had fallen so quickly, so completely.

For every step her brother took, Leena backed away. Animal instinct made her put distance between them, and no one stopped her until one of the fae guards caught her from behind, gripping her arms.

Fionn stopped a respectful distance from the general’s chair, bowing deeply. Juradoc rose from his seat, then crossed to where Fionn stood. As he walked, he slowly pulled off his right glove, loosening one finger at a time. The fine black leather came loose with the sound of something sticky peeling away. When the glove finally came off, Leena gagged at the rotting stench, though they stood a dozen feet apart.

Juradoc’s hand was a mere claw, blackened and bony with mottled grey talons. With an almost paternal gentleness, he pushed back Fionn’s hood and pressed his palm against her brother’s forehead. It looked as if he were delivering a benediction.

Fionn gave a violent jerk. Leena’s first instinct was to leap forward and pull her brother away, but the guard holding her closed his grip like a vice. She struggled, but not for long. Bone deep, she knew there was nothing she could do.

Greenish light spilled from Juradoc’s hand and over Fionn’s face and the russet curls of his hair, then dripped down his body like a thick syrup. No murmur, no whisper came from the rapt onlookers, as if the moment were holy. Seconds passed, each surely lasting an hour.

Leena’s knees faltered. She was caught in a nightmare, waiting, wondering, dreading what horror would come next. By making her watch this, the Shade was torturing her, robbing her of the will to fight and survive.

As she watched, a gray sheen spread out and clung to Fionn, coating him like a cloud of mist and then seeping into his skin. By the time it had been absorbed, corruption covered his entire body in patches of dark, scaly gray. His eyes flashed violet before closing. He stood immobile, not breathing, as still as a corpse.

Leena cried out—or tried to. The sound choked and died in her throat.

Her brother had become a Shade. A collective sigh gusted through the crowd as they all fell to their knees in worshipful awe.

Leena’s guard released her. What could she do now?

The sound that escaped her hung between a curse and a whimper.

“And now,” Juradoc announced, returning to his chair, “our chosen warrior will begin his special mission.”

The general picked up an object that sat between his chair and Morran’s. He turned it over, setting it on the dirt where they all could see it. Leena took one shaky step forward, hardly believing her eyes. A small mirror rested on the ground, emitting a soft, shifting glow.

A whisper of anticipation rustled through the crowd. Juradoc was creating a portal—perhaps to another part of Faery, or even to another world. Leena had never seen a Shimmer, but she’d heard of the Shade’s mirror magic.

A bright pinprick of light appeared above the glass at about eye level. It swirled like a child’s pinwheel, expanding slowly as it spun. The air grew heavy with static, like the moments before a storm.

From the corner of her eye, Leena saw a shadow move beneath the general’s chair. With a stab of dismay, she saw it was Kifi, watching the spinning light with wide, fascinated eyes. It was the look the cat got right before she hurled herself at a bug