Sorrell took a step into the center, his arms falling away from his chest. “Someone cast one on me while we were at the Court of Frost,” he announced.
Roan growled. “Why didn’t you say something?” he demanded.
Sorrell didn’t look at him as he replied. “I assumed it was my mother. She used to do things like that when I was a child,” he explained. “It was her way of … teaching me a lesson. To say she was unhappy about Cress’s presence in our Court would be an understatement. Though she didn’t show her irritation as well as the Crimson Queen, my mother is not our ally.”
“Do you think she could’ve helped Tyr?” I asked, curious. I doubted it, but I wanted to hear his response.
Sorrell’s eyes found mine and he shook his head. “No. She doesn’t approve of Cressida, but she has never once trusted a member of the Midnight Court. She wouldn’t be working with Tyr. I suspect he’s working on his own.”
I nodded.
“Regardless,” Roan said, bringing us back to the main point, “what would a dream spell do? We can get into contact with her, but what if she doesn’t understand what’s happening? Dream spells aren’t always easy to perform.”
“It still has potential,” Groffet replied. “And whoever goes will need to be very careful with her. She is still unused to Fae magic. Treat her as though her magic is still in its infantile stage.”
The only issue that remained was that none of us were particularly skilled with dream magic. Dream magic wasn’t forbidden, but it also wasn’t encouraged, for a reason. It was dangerous. Dreamscapes were fickle and confusing places. One wrong turn down a dark memory or a mind that was too clouded, and the caster might end up trapped in the other person’s mind.
Forever.
The decision, though, was easy. If there was a chance we could get into contact with Cress, an opportunity to save her, then there was no real question as to if we would do it or not. I lifted my gaze and met each one of my brothers’ before centering my attention on Groffet. “I’ll do it,” I announced. “And you’re going to teach me, old man.”
Chapter Six
Cress
The feeling of arms holding me awoke my senses. Fast. Running. Trees blurred past. The arms that held me, however, were warm and I felt … safe.
Why did I feel safe? I wondered. Who was holding me? Was it one of the guys? No. It didn’t feel like one of them. The arms encircling my frame were much more slender than any of them. They felt almost feminine. And whoever it was that held me, did so against a soft chest. I tried to open my eyes but found that when I did everything appeared in dark and light tones of blacks, whites, and grays. Like the whole world had been leached of color.
“How much farther?” a soft, female voice asked, her tone shaky and … scared? It was hard to hear. The scent of something pungent and something sweet permeated the air around me and there was a sudden rush of air as if a small wind tunnel had opened up and sucked me and the woman holding me through it.
“Not much farther,” a male voice answered. He was close by, the sound of his voice soothing, but there was no disguising that he, too, was uncertain of something. His tone, although strong, was tight—as if pulled taut from some sort of strong emotion.
“Henri,” the woman called. “Henri!”
“Keep going, Marcella. We have to. They’re tracking us.”
“We can’t keep running,” the woman said, her fear much stronger now as she slowed to a walk and then stopped altogether. “Not with her.”
Who was ‘her?’ I wanted to ask. The woman above me sniffled and something wet hit my forehead and slid down the side of my face. Why was she crying? For some reason, I didn’t like hearing this woman’s pain. It made something in my chest tighten. I wanted to tell her everything would be okay even if I didn’t know exactly what was going on.
“Marci.” The man’s voice grew closer and then the warmth I felt being cuddled into the woman’s breast was increased as he wrapped his arms around both her and me. “It’s going to be okay, but we have to keep moving.”
The woman continued to cry and other than a few breathy gasps, she kept her pain and sorrow and fear to a quiet murmur. When she finally regained the ability to speak, she pushed back against the man with one arm. My eyes flickered between the two of them. I could make out their heads, bent over mine, but not their features. It was as if someone had blurred out what they looked like and left only the vaguest of outlines for me to draw information from. What I could tell, though, was that they were both looking down at me.
“We have to leave her behind,” the woman said.
Silence. Then, “Are you sure?” The man sounded strained as if it cost him to even say the words, to even consider the woman’s claim.
The woman shook her head. “No. I’m not sure of anything anymore,” she whispered in the darkness of the forest. “I thought we could trust the Courts. I thought our friends would survive. I’ve thought so many things, Henri. I don’t trust my instincts anymore. But I think … this time, maybe … her best chance is away from us. With the humans.”
That’s when it hit me. Who these people really were. What this was. It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. Why had I recalled this now? What was the point of this memory surfacing after so long? I couldn’t make sense of the reason, but the truth of it could be felt in the fires of my veins. I knew these two people. These were my parents. My real parents. It all became too much for me. I opened my mouth—to say what, I didn't know—but before I could say anything, a horrifying squalling noise erupted from my throat.
“Oh, no, my dear.” Marci—the woman, my mother—shushed me, rocking me in her arms back and forth. “Oh, you poor thing. I know, my darling. It’s scary, but trust me—trust us—we love you. We only want what’s best for you.”
“We want her to live,” Henri, my father, said. “And if we’re going to do that, we need to find a place to leave her, now, before they catch up with us.”
“The humans,” she said. “They’ll take her in.”
“We can’t say what she is,” Henri replied.
My mother’s head shook. “No, we won’t even see them.” She started moving again. “There’s an abbey not far from here. We can leave her there. On their doorstep. The nuns of Coreliath will take her in.”
“Hold on.” The sound of heavy footsteps stomping back to the two of us sounded in my ears. “If we’re going to do this, my love, we have to protect her from them as well. The humans will take her in, but she’ll start showing signs of her magic soon. We have to…” He trailed off, the hoarseness of his voice becoming too much for him.
“Yes,” my mother finished for him. “You’re right.” Another tear fell onto my face. “Alright then.” She reached out and took his hand, drawing him closer, once more, to the two of us. “Then let us cast it.”
A wide, masculine palm landed gently on my cheek. My father’s thumb stroked down my smooth skin. “Our little Princess,” he murmured. “How I wish things had been different for you. How difficult your life will be. I hope one day, you can forgive us for this.”