The Road to Bedlam: Courts of the Feyre, Book 2 (9 page)

    "You've spoken to me, but we haven't talked. You're not telling me anything. Have I done something wrong?"

    "No! It's not you. It's me."

    "If I've done something, you have to tell me what it is."

    "You haven't done anything, I promise. I was just so wrapped up in what happened. I'm sorry. I'll try harder."

    "You're doing it again."

    "What?"

    "Pushing me away, closing me out, clamming up."

    She tried to stand, but I had her hand and gently pulled her back down. "Stay, please?" She relented and sat back down beside me.

    I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was right. I had insulated myself from the pain of losing Alex, and in doing so I had isolated myself from everyone, even Blackbird. I think she understood that better than I did. It was hard to admit that the closeness we had found together was so fragile; that it could be undermined so quickly.

    "I'm thinking about Alex." I told her what Garvin had said.

    "You're not seriously thinking of doing that, are you?"

    "Garvin may be right. It may be what's best for her."

    "Rubbish!"

    "She may not be able to come back to us, and I can't deal with it. I just can't." I shook my head in the twilight.

    "You're not thinking straight, Niall. This is your daughter. Did she sound mad?"

    "She didn't say much. There wasn't time."

    "Was she raving or screaming? Was there violence?"

    "No, she just sounded lost and alone."

    "Then find her. She's relying on you. You are the only person in the world who can help her. You have to have faith that she is your daughter and nothing–" She leaned forward and cupped my chin in her fingers so she could look straight into my eyes. "Nothing changes that. If she is truly beyond help, deal with it then, don't fail her now."

    I stood and paced the floor between the shrouded furniture. "What if Garvin's right? What if she's insane, dangerous even?"

    "What if this? What if that? Does it make a difference? You're her father, Niall."

    "No, you're right. I have to find her."

    "Of course I'm right. She's your daughter."

    She got to her feet and came to me, easing into my arms. Between us, there was an answering kick from the bump in her belly.

    She looked down and when she lifted her eyes back to mine there was a tiny glint of green fire in them. "I think something is coming between us."

    I slumped back on to the sofa and she collapsed backwards into me and rested her head on my shoulder. "I am so fat," she said.

    I stroked my hand over the bump that held my son. "It suits you."

    "It does not. I look like a python that's swallowed a beach ball."

    "A beach ball that kicks."

    "A beach ball that's getting bigger. It's going to be touch and go. I could burst before he's cooked."

    "He'll come when he's ready."

    "And when will that be?"

    "I don't know. It's been…" I counted in my head. "Nine months. A little more, maybe?"

    Her sigh turned into a groan. "He's so heavy."

    "Were you OK walking down to the village?"

    "Of course. Tate's funny. He thinks I boss you around."

    "You do."

    "No, I don't. I make suggestions that are eminently sensible that no rational person could argue with."

    "That's what I said."

    She pressed her knuckle against my knee joint until I yelped. "Ow! You're mean."

    "Don't argue with a pregnant woman. They can be very emotional."

    "And violent, apparently."

    She relaxed back into me, satisfied that she had won.

    "How am I going to find her?" It was a question partly to myself.

    "Maybe you'll be able to reach her again, and listen in to what's going on around her."

    "No. They were panicking when I reached her the first time. They'll keep her sedated until they're sure I'm not looking for her."

    "You may have to be patient."

    "Not my strongest point. No, I think I need to find out who's got her. The obvious place to start is with Mr Phillips, the consultant who brought the consent forms. He must have known they were going to take her. Find him and I find a way to her."

    "So find him."

    "What, now?"

    "Is there a better time?"

    Over the fireplace there was a large mirror with a dust cloth draped partly across it. Blackbird slid sideways on to the seat and let me rise so I could draw the dust sheet down. It fell in ripples to the fireplace. Even in the gloom I could see the frame was ornate, two herons facing each other across the pool of glass. It was high above the fireplace and difficult to reach, but I didn't need contact to do this. I formed a connection with the well of darkness deep within me and reached into the depths of the mirror with my intention, connecting that focus to the core of power within me.

    "Mr Phillips?"

    I could feel the link with the mirror. I wondered for a moment how the mirror knew which Mr Phillips I wanted, but then realised that it was linked not to the words but to my image of him.

    "Mr Phillips?"

    The mirror went opaque as I intensified the connection, the surface glowing like fluorescent milk. There was a small ticking sound, increasing in pace until it was a buzz.

    "Where are you, Mr Phillips?" I was beginning to like this. Once I knew where this guy was, I could use him to find my daughter.

    Suddenly the sound changed. It was like bad feedback on an untuned guitar, jarring in intensity, full of wrongness. It rose to a deafening roar and the glass crazed and then flew apart in a rain of fine shards. Blackbird and I shielded ourselves and it was a moment before we both realised that the sound had gone.

    The frame was empty, the mirror shattered.

FOUR

Fionh appeared in the doorway. She switched on the main light and the guilty carpet of shards glinted around me.

    "What were you doing?" she asked.

    "I was using the mirror," I tried to explain. "Something went wrong."

    Garvin appeared at Fionh's shoulder. He surveyed the room and then entered. "So you decided to try and find her anyway?"

    "Blackbird thinks she's not mad, and I agree with her."

    "And if she is?"

    "If she is, I'll deal with it."

    "You told me earlier that you couldn't. You weren't lying."

    "I'm not lying now, either."

    "What changed your mind?"

    "I'm her father, Garvin. I needed to remember that. I'll do what needs to be done, but she's not mad."

    "You don't know that."

    "Neither do you." It was stalemate.

    Into the room bustled an old man. I had seen no one that old among the Feyre. Fionh moved out of his way, as did Garvin. He carried a dustpan and brush and offered his hand to lead me gently from the wreckage of the mirror.

    "Mr Garvin, would you be kind enough to ask Mr Dogstar not to break anymore of the furnishings if he could manage that?" he said. He went down to his knees and began carefully sweeping up glass. There was no sarcasm in the comment.

    "I will make sure he gets the message, Mullbrook." He looked at me and I nodded my assent. "Are our guests' rooms ready?"

    "I have put them in the east wing where I hope that Miss Blackbird will find the morning sunshine to her liking," he said. "The beds should be aired by now and there's plenty of hot water. If you wouldn't mind showing them where their rooms are, I have some clearing up to do."

    "I'll show them," Garvin said.

    We were ushered out ahead of Garvin while Mullbrook remained, carefully sweeping up the debris. I was about to say something to Garvin when he held his fingers to his lips. It wasn't until we had ascended the main staircase and turned through the double doors on the landing that he spoke.

    "Mullbrook has ears like a bat," Garvin commented, "So just be aware that he will overhear anything you say."

    "Is that a problem?"

    "No. He's absolutely loyal and the soul of discretion. I just don't want you upsetting him. This place runs like clockwork and that is largely due to him. If you offend him we may end up having kidneys for breakfast for a week."

    I glanced towards Blackbird, who had turned slightly green.

    "Kidneys?"

    "Or tripe. Tripe is a favourite when he's upset."

    "For breakfast?"

    "Just don't offend him, and try not to break anything else. This is his home as much as it is anyone's and you're his guest."

    "Who is he?"

    "He's the chief steward. He looks after the house and makes sure that everything runs as it should."

    "He's not fey, is he?" said Blackbird.

    "No. He's quite human, but he's served the Feyre for most of his life and even the High Council pay attention to him, so don't upset him. He'll look after you while you're here. If you need anything, just ask and it will be provided. There are other staff too. Try not to get in their way."

    He stopped outside a double doorway, opened one of the doors and ushered Blackbird in before him. I followed behind. Inside was a suite of rooms: a sitting room with a fire laid ready to light, a bedroom with one of the biggest beds I've ever seen. The deep red coverlet had been drawn back and the quilt turned back on each side, exposing white cotton sheets. Through another door there was a marble-tiled bathroom with a huge double-ended bath.

    "This is sumptuous, Garvin," said Blackbird.

    "Thank Mullbrook. He thinks you need looking after."

    I went to the tall French windows, discovering a small balcony with views out over the valley. The light had faded, leaving the landscape scattered with pinpoint lights under moonlit clouds. I turned back to Garvin.

    "You can't ask me not to look for her."

    "I could, but I'm not going to. I'm asking you not to look for her now, not from here. You've already compromised one location. I don't know whether that stunt you pulled downstairs was your idea or Blackbird's." He looked from me to her, then back to me. "But you swore to protect the High Council, Dogstar, and if you bring the sort of attention that you brought to your last house here, you will be breaking your vows."

    "I'll go somewhere else, then. I can't leave her there. I'm her father, dammit!"

    "You're not listening, and you're not thinking either. What do you think is going to happen? She called you Daddy. Do you think they won't make the connection? They'll be looking for you everywhere. They will go to Katherine, to your parents, to your friends, your old addresses, anyone who knows you. They will build up a profile of your habits, your likes and dislikes, your loves and hates, your strengths and weaknesses. They will seize your bank accounts, trace your credit cards, interview your friends, grill your enemies. They will want to know as much as they can before they come looking for you."

    "Let them come. I'm ready for them."

    "No, you're not. This isn't the first time that the Feyre and mankind have come into conflict and one thing you can say for humanity is that they learn. As far as they are concerned you are a threat to security. You'll be on every terrorist list, every warning screen. They will use everything at their disposal. They will monitor CCTV, intercept communications, watch your house, your friends, your family. When they find you they will come armed with guns loaded with soft iron bullets specifically designed to kill fey. You're a threat to them and they will want you dead."

    I looked to Blackbird, but she just shrugged, confirming his words.

    "You're crashing around like a pig at a goose fair and it'll get you nowhere. They will block you at every turn, anticipate your every move, and wait for their opportunity to eliminate the threat. Am I getting through?"

    "I can't leave her there. I just can't."

    "If you'd come to me, we might have been able to steal her from them before they realised what we were doing. Now you've kicked the hornet's nest there's no chance. If you want to rescue her you are going to need help. We are the Warders. We watch each other's backs. We look after our own and even though you are not a full Warder yet, that still includes you. You have taken the oath, you are sworn to protect the council. I want to help you, Niall, but I have other things on my plate and in case you haven't noticed, you and Blackbird are homeless. I would have thought that concern for your unborn son was high on your list."

    "You don't need to remind me."

    "Don't I? Were you thinking of Blackbird and your son when you froze an entire forest?"

    "That was different. I didn't intend…"

    "Whether you intended to or not, the effect was the same. You want Alex back. I understand, and I will help you. But right now you're just making it worse – worse for you, worse for Blackbird and worse for Alex."

    I turned back to the view across the valley. I could feel the need to do something like a knot between my shoulder blades. He was right, though. I had messed this up badly.

    I turned back. "When? When will you help me?"

    Garvin looked at the ceiling. "What do you want me to do, Niall? Make you an appointment?"

    "How long…" The knot was getting tighter. "How long does she have to stay there?"

    "You will get one chance at this, Niall. If you do it wrong you will either end up captive yourself or you will force them to dispose of Alex."

    "Dispose! What do you mean, dispose?" I was shouting.

    His voice was calm in the face of my anger. "You know perfectly well what I mean. If you back them into a corner you will force them to make a decision. Eliminating the risk is an option. You getting angry won't change that, it will only make it worse. Right now she's useful to them and while she's useful they will look after her. It's not perfect but it's the best alternative for the meantime."