Chapter Six

Silas scrubbed his hands over his face, his shoulders slumped. He had never attended a transition before, being too young when Jonas took the mantle nearly a century previous. However, this did not seem to be an ordinary occasion. Even the most senior clan members were deeply disturbed. Why had the magick attacked? That was the million dollar question. Was it due to the oath Bailey had made earlier, or in reaction to her statement on the dais during the ritual?

Bailey had yet to wake, and it’d been over an hour. He was tempted to shake her until her teeth rattled, but obviously her body needed to recover. He had snatched her away from the panicked crowd as fast as he could, and hopefully he was the only one that had witnessed the myriad of bruising that blossomed over her body, or the welting and burns. As far as he was aware, the magick had never attacked its own Inherent before.

Maybe it was the jump in the line of succession, suicide was not a common thing among the Halfling clans. Typically a stray Unseelie got to you before any thought of suicide crossed the mind.

“How is she?” Gemma’s voice was small. Exhausted. He lifted his head. She was paler than usual, drawn and tense.

“Still asleep.”

“She needs to wake.”

“I’m not going to wake her until it becomes vital. Everyone has gone home to rest. It’s not necessary to break the healing sleep unless some other unfortunate event forces us to.” Silas shook his head and sighed. “That was…weird…right? I know I’m not the only one.”

Gemma shrugged, the movement both graceful and wooden at the same time. “I don’t know. This is my first transition as well. I’ve never witnessed anything like it. I didn’t realize there would be casualties. I would’ve worn running shoes.”

She crossed the room and flopped on the couch, leaning over until her head rested against Silas. His heart fluttered like it did every single time Gemma had shown him affection, and he held back a groan. There was always an unusual tension with Gemma, especially as they had grown older. As long as she was in his life, everything would always be right with the world.

“I miss it here, Silas.” Her voice was small and pained. “It’s so different in the Winter Court. I never thought I’d inherit the throne. There was always a chance that my uncle would conceive his own heir. And now, after his ‘accident’, I find it so tedious to deal with the day-to-day demands of court life. And the Unseelie are becoming harder to control.”

Silas looked down at her. “How so?” There’d been fewer cases than normal for the Clan to deal with. It seemed more peaceful on this side of the portal.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s not overt. And they’re always wild, driven by their baser instincts and blood lust. But the lesser Fae are more united. Like their attacks are coordinated instead of frenzied. Almost like they’re becoming cohesive. Their magick has never been the strongest, but they’re closer to the Wild magicks, so it’s disturbing when there seems to be a collective reasoning among their ranks." She stifled a yawn, and turned her head into his shoulder.

Silas allowed himself a single moment to enjoy the warmth of her, his eyes closing.

“Well, isn't this just cozy?” The drawl jerked him back to awareness. Prince Beckett leaned against the wide doorframe that led into the Clan house living area. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

The elf knew he was, by the wicked smirk aimed at them. Silas felt the tension stiffening his shoulders as Gemma sat upright.

“Beckett…” Gemma started then shook her head. “Do you need help finding your accommodations?”

His grin grew broader, a glint of something in his eyes that set Silas on edge, and he ground his teeth to maintain his silence. “Is that an offer, m’Lady?” Beckett flourished into a half bow.

Gemma laughed with delight, and Silas felt his heart wither. “I wouldn’t dream on imposing on your rest, my Lord. I was merely going to give you turn by turn instruction to where you might find your room.” Her eyes hooded and she gave him a lazy smile. “If I were to accompany you, undoubtedly you would find your evening lackluster indeed. I snore.”

Silas snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. Beckett nodded once and grinned again. “How’s the little Halfling?” He gestured to the closed door off the family room.

“She doesn’t snore, if that’s what you’re asking.” Gemma replied.

“In all seriousness, Gemma.” Tobin shoved past Beckett. “We need to know.”

“Why?” Silas felt himself bristle. “You’re just here to witness.”

“There’s more here than we are aware of, and I have a sinking suspicion we’re all going to be caught up in whatever it is sooner or later. I prefer sooner, it becomes easier to control the outcome.”

“Maybe what you need to do is return to your Courts.” Silas’s voice was low, but lethal. “We do not need any others infringing on clan business.”

“No even when this ‘business’ happens to be the portal taking the life of three of your own?” Jayce inserted. He hovered beyond Beckett, his expression thunderous. “Or how about that it almost killed your Inherent? Or maybe it was the blood vow.”

Silas’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Blood vow?!”

“Did you not notice that she was bleeding when you carried her? It’s on the front of your shirt.”

Silas looked down. There did seem to be a stain he hadn’t registered before. “But those are just injuries, probably from scratches.”

“Magick doesn’t scratch, Halfling, it burns. All three of us have witnessed transitions before. This was unique, and your little Inherent used the wild fae magick to make a blood oath. Her life is now forfeit if she fails to do whatever job she has set before herself. She is a silly child. So are you. None of you are fit to take the place of Jonas.”

“Jonas had a century to learn the job!”

“It doesn’t take a century to know you don’t pledge an oath of vengeance while in the throes of a ritual!” Jayce thundered, shoving past both Tobin and Beckett. “She is either going to die fulfilling some quest for revenge or die because she cannot fulfill it!”

Silas paled. “She might be able to fulfill the oath.”

“How? Especially when none but her know what it is.”

“I do…” Silas sighed. “If it’s the same Gods-bound oath she made before the ritual. She said she was going to find her grandfather’s murderer or raze the Fee clan to the ground.”

Gemma gasped. The fae princes stilled. Silas nodded grimly. “Either she fulfills the oath, or we all die.” He whispered.

“Then you need to wake her up. She has work to do.” Jayce hissed and stalked out of the room.

Silas glared at his retreating form. The elf was so damned arrogant. Bailey just lost her grandfather, and was forced to become the Inherent she had never wanted to be. Obviously she would fulfill her pact.

“What’s his major malfunction?” Silas asked the room in general.

“Ah…” Beckett gave Silas a lopsided smile. “Your Inherent is his Spark.”