Page 70

Shayne Lyro and His Nightmares Wide Awake

There sat his heartless father, his wicked brothers, and other young fairies who had once called themselves his friends. They all looked back at Shayne as he stood in the great hall. His own blood ran down his arm and over the handle of his fairsaber, dripping off the end and soaking into the red carpet. He’d fought a Lyro guard on his way into his childling home. And he had that rude guard to thank for leaving him with an open wound in his arm. But even amidst the fighting, the running, the pattering of his feet over the cold floors into the great hall, he hadn’t uttered a word.

The twenty-four hours it took Shayne to get here were the longest of his life. And though he hadn’t come on a straight path, and many things had happened in those twenty-four hours, he had felt a certain emptiness that was deeper than any he’d faced before. It had been twenty-four hours without smiling. Twenty-four hours of denial. Every step had been a plea, an angry pursuit that had mimicked the pounding of his chest.

At the end of twenty-four hours, he looked into the faces of his past where his father and brothers sat in their chairs, unashamed of the works of their own hands. And Shayne said the first words he’d spoken since setting foot in this place.

“Give her back to me.”

A few whispers flittered through the room. Massie tilted his head like a cat, and Hans-Der squinted as if trying to figure out what Shayne meant, even though it was obvious what Shayne faeborn meant.

Jethwire was a different story—he was the only one smiling. His icy eyes and twisted mouth made Shayne’s insides curl with the story they told.

Lily was here in this room. At least, she had been recently. Shayne looked right and left, though he didn’t see a pretty human with tattooed arms and long blonde hair. He didn’t hear her rhythms, and though he could smell traces of her, she felt… He closed his eyes as he refused to acknowledge just how cold and far away she felt.

Queensbane, if she was dead…

Hans-Der leaned forward on his large chair and folded his hands before him. It was a posture he’d often used right before a righteous scolding. Shayne wasn’t having it. He raised his fairsaber toward his father—a threat, and a statement: Speak or die.

Lesser fairies inhaled and scurried back as if afraid they might get caught in the crossfire of a terrible Lyro fight right in the middle of the great hall.

“Givewhoback to you? That human?” Hans-Der guessed, feigning innocence, and Shayne’s jaw tightened.

“Yes,” he said through his teeth. “That human. She’s mine.”

From his seat, Massie snorted a quiet laugh and placed a fist over his mouth.

Hans-Der’s face spread into a smile, too. The look was infuriatingly charming and held a pinch of gloating. “I have no idea where she is,” he said.

“Don’t lie to me,” Shayne demanded. He took a step forward, and Jethwire stood from his seat. It was a motion to assure Shayne that if he made another move toward their father, Jethwire would do something about it. Which was laughable. “What are you going to do, Jethwire? Throw your little flute at me?” Shayne guessed.

Jethwire couldn’t find his stupid smile now.

Hans-Der chuckled as he relaxed against his chair. “My tongue would tingle if I was uttering falsehoods,” he said. “It doesn’t. I’m telling you the truth. I have no idea where that human is.”

Shayne’s fairsaber wavered. He stared at his father’s face; one he’d been reading since he was just a boy. One that told him that perhaps this horrid man was telling the truth… until the corner of his father’s mouth quirked.

“You’re still lying, Father. And it’s putting your throat dangerously close to being stabbed through with my fairsaber.” Shayne took another step forward, and this time, Jethwire took two steps down the dais, his cold eyes whispering threats of their own.

Hans-Der, on the other hand, was smiling now, showing his teeth. Almost like he wasproudShayne could see through the falsehood, like he was realizing all over again Shayne was capable of figuring that much out.

“Very well. You’re right, Shayne. I’m lying.” He folded his hands and rested them on his lap. “Move, Jethwire. Sit down and let him be,” he added.

Jethwire glanced back at Hans-Der with a look of question.

“Not only will Shayne refrain from killing us, he will also be taking his rightful place in the highest chair of this household tomorrow,” Hans-Der assured as he stood. He descended the dais slowly, and he came to stand before Shayne, ignoring the fairsaber raised at his neck.

“Why would I ever do that?” Shayne asked. He inhaled; Lily’s fragrance was everywhere—even in the carpet below his feet. He was sure if he just turned around, searched the House, he would find her.

Hans-Der reached up and pushed the fairsaber aside with the end of his finger. “Because once I tell you where that human is, I’m sure you won’t want her anymore,” he said, and Shayne’s skin cooled. “This is the cost of your choice to disobey. I never fail to punish disobedience. You know this.”

“Where is she?” Shayne thought to drop his fairsaber and grab his father’s throat with his bare hand before all these witnesses.

“Swear yourself in as heir of this House. Submit to me and to this household, take your chair, and I will tell you where that human has gone.” Hans-Der’s voice was level, and Shayne’s heart broke in his chest.

So, she was gone. Lost to the Ever Corners. Lily wasn’t really here in this House, despite all the leftover traces.

The fairsaber nearly slipped from Shayne’s fingers. Even if he set out immediately, he could spend years searching the Corners for a human, and he still might never find her. She could already be in the Silver Castle or in some other unreachable place, or she could be the property of the vilest fairies he’d only heard stories about. She could already have suffocated beneath the pressure of it all. She could already be dead.