Read Online Realm of Mirrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 3) by Sonya Bateman - Free Book Online
Authors: Sonya Bateman
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and I glanced at Sadie with concern. She hadn’t said a word since we came up here. At the moment, she was staring toward the big window and the glittering sprawl of Manhattan beyond—but I doubted she was seeing any of it.
I patted her leg, and she stirred and gave me a slight smile. At least she was still in there somewhere.
“So,” I said to the odd couple. “You guys are Fae, right?”
Nix smiled crookedly. “Nah, we’re bloody unicorns,” he said. “Course we are.”
“Oh.” I wondered if there was a tactful way to ask if they were Seelie or Unseelie. Taeral always seemed to know, but I was still having trouble figuring out whether someone was human or not.
Then I remembered Shade could hear thoughts that wanted to be heard. Maybe if I thought hard enough, I wouldn’t have to ask what was probably a stupid question out loud.
Just as the idea crossed my mind, she raised an elegant eyebrow. “It’s not a stupid question,” she said. “But it is something of a complicated answer.”
“Holy shit. You heard me?”
“Aye. You wanted me to, didn’t you?” She actually smiled a little, and even Sadie took notice. “We’re not high Fae, Nix and I,” she said. “At least, that is the term, though I’ve never agreed with it. High Fae, pure Seelie and Unseelie, control the Summer and Winter Courts. But there are many other…variations, all of us labeled low Fae.”
“You mean like Redcaps,” I said. That’s what Sadie had called the pointy-toothed leprechaun—a low Fae.
Nix stared at me. “You’ve seen a Redcap?” he said. “Here?”
“Er, yeah. Once,” I said. “Long story.”
“Don’t interrupt, you daft bit,” Shade said, not unkindly. “They should know this.”
He grinned. “Sorry, love. I’m an insensitive tool, a bloody flake, and so forth.”
“That you are.” She shook her head. “As I was saying, there are many types of low Fae. Dryads, nymphs, Redcaps, gnomes, brownies. My thick-headed mate here is a Pooka, and I am Sluagh. And we, the low Fae, are Seelie or Unseelie depending on where in Arcadia our kind dwells, and which Court’s rule we’re subjected to.” Her lingering smile slipped away. “Meaning he’s Seelie, and I’m Unseelie.”
“Aye. Arcadia forbids the union of Seelie and Unseelie—it’s the one thing both Courts agree on.” Nix took his wife’s hand gently. “That’s why we’re here, instead of there.”
Damn. I knew they didn’t get along, but this seemed somehow worse than killing each other. It sounded like the high Fae had basically forced a bunch of other Fae who didn’t have anything to do with them to take sides, and then made loyalty a requirement. “So you couldn’t be together at all over there?” I said.
“We couldn’t survive there,” Shade said. “The penalty for such a union is death.”
I decided not to ask what the Courts’ policies were on human-Fae unions. Figured I could probably guess.
Before I could horrify myself further, Cobalt returned from wherever he’d gone, tucking a phone in his pocket. “Coincidentally, Uriskel is aware that you’re here,” he said. “And despite swearing he’d no longer protect me when I don’t need it, he’s already on the way. He’ll be here momentarily.”
“Fantastic,” Nix said. “Your brother’s presence always livens the place up. I’ll nip down and let him in, shall I?”
“Please do. I’d rather he didn’t break my door down. Again.”
Nix stood and headed for the stairs. And I tried to stay calm, reminding myself that at least I had a vague idea why Uriskel acted the way he did.
Unfortunately, it didn’t make him any less terrifying.
When Uriskel joined us, I had to repeat my little story. But he wasn’t satisfied with ‘a bunch of angry fairies came through the TV and stole my father and brother.’
“You must know something .” Once again, the red-haired Unseelie had refused to sit down. He stood at the end of the longer couch, staring
I patted her leg, and she stirred and gave me a slight smile. At least she was still in there somewhere.
“So,” I said to the odd couple. “You guys are Fae, right?”
Nix smiled crookedly. “Nah, we’re bloody unicorns,” he said. “Course we are.”
“Oh.” I wondered if there was a tactful way to ask if they were Seelie or Unseelie. Taeral always seemed to know, but I was still having trouble figuring out whether someone was human or not.
Then I remembered Shade could hear thoughts that wanted to be heard. Maybe if I thought hard enough, I wouldn’t have to ask what was probably a stupid question out loud.
Just as the idea crossed my mind, she raised an elegant eyebrow. “It’s not a stupid question,” she said. “But it is something of a complicated answer.”
“Holy shit. You heard me?”
“Aye. You wanted me to, didn’t you?” She actually smiled a little, and even Sadie took notice. “We’re not high Fae, Nix and I,” she said. “At least, that is the term, though I’ve never agreed with it. High Fae, pure Seelie and Unseelie, control the Summer and Winter Courts. But there are many other…variations, all of us labeled low Fae.”
“You mean like Redcaps,” I said. That’s what Sadie had called the pointy-toothed leprechaun—a low Fae.
Nix stared at me. “You’ve seen a Redcap?” he said. “Here?”
“Er, yeah. Once,” I said. “Long story.”
“Don’t interrupt, you daft bit,” Shade said, not unkindly. “They should know this.”
He grinned. “Sorry, love. I’m an insensitive tool, a bloody flake, and so forth.”
“That you are.” She shook her head. “As I was saying, there are many types of low Fae. Dryads, nymphs, Redcaps, gnomes, brownies. My thick-headed mate here is a Pooka, and I am Sluagh. And we, the low Fae, are Seelie or Unseelie depending on where in Arcadia our kind dwells, and which Court’s rule we’re subjected to.” Her lingering smile slipped away. “Meaning he’s Seelie, and I’m Unseelie.”
“Aye. Arcadia forbids the union of Seelie and Unseelie—it’s the one thing both Courts agree on.” Nix took his wife’s hand gently. “That’s why we’re here, instead of there.”
Damn. I knew they didn’t get along, but this seemed somehow worse than killing each other. It sounded like the high Fae had basically forced a bunch of other Fae who didn’t have anything to do with them to take sides, and then made loyalty a requirement. “So you couldn’t be together at all over there?” I said.
“We couldn’t survive there,” Shade said. “The penalty for such a union is death.”
I decided not to ask what the Courts’ policies were on human-Fae unions. Figured I could probably guess.
Before I could horrify myself further, Cobalt returned from wherever he’d gone, tucking a phone in his pocket. “Coincidentally, Uriskel is aware that you’re here,” he said. “And despite swearing he’d no longer protect me when I don’t need it, he’s already on the way. He’ll be here momentarily.”
“Fantastic,” Nix said. “Your brother’s presence always livens the place up. I’ll nip down and let him in, shall I?”
“Please do. I’d rather he didn’t break my door down. Again.”
Nix stood and headed for the stairs. And I tried to stay calm, reminding myself that at least I had a vague idea why Uriskel acted the way he did.
Unfortunately, it didn’t make him any less terrifying.
When Uriskel joined us, I had to repeat my little story. But he wasn’t satisfied with ‘a bunch of angry fairies came through the TV and stole my father and brother.’
“You must know something .” Once again, the red-haired Unseelie had refused to sit down. He stood at the end of the longer couch, staring
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