Ashes

By Laura Schiller

Series: The Faerie Path Trilogy

Copyright: Frewin Jones, HarperCollins Publishing

Edric sat by the fireplace in the ruins of the Great Hall with his head in his hands, staring down at the drifts of greyish-white ashes left in it from its last fire, five hundred years ago. A musty, mildewed smell hung in the stale air; dust and cobwebs covered the floor, the walls, even the royal thrones at the far end of the hall. Everything was grey and shadowy; the only touch of color came from Edric's green doublet and hose and from his dark blond hair.

He was home again, or at least in his own world. His task was accomplished. These things gave him no joy, however; it only made the hollow ache in his head and heart pound with an almost physical pain.

What have I done? he asked himself.

He had crashed the boat in fear, lost his last chance to tell Tania the truth, and hurt both of them in the process. Lord Drake had gotten to Tania first; she would find out that he had lied to her. His stomach twisted.

He should have kept control of the boat.

He should have told her everything earlier.

He should never have fallen in love with her in the first place – not that he had any choice in the matter. Love did not pay attention to such obstacles as social status, Lord Drake or even different worlds.

Suddenly a voice rang through the heavy, dusty silence of the hall, where none had been heard in ages. A young woman's voice, slightly scratchy from fatigue but full of joy.

"Evan!"

Oh no.

"Where have you been? Everyone's looking for you!"

He looked up and there she was, her red hair shimmering in the gloom, still in her yellow flannel pyjamas underneath Lord Drake's heavy black cloak. Standing above him in the gallery, glowing with relief – of course, the last time she had seen him, he'd been unconscious in the hospital – calling his name. His false name.

So she didn't know yet.

Drake followed like a deadly shadow, walking smoothly behind her and taking his place by her side with a faint smile of satisfaction. His silver eyes glinted and flickered between Tania and Edric, the coolly appraising look of a peasant surveying his best cattle. His servant and his bride, both completely under his power.

Edric kept his voice and expression blank as he said, "Well met, my lord."

A lie, of course – like so many others he had told in Drake's service.

"Our enterprise has met with success, Edric," said Drake, more kindly than he had ever spoken to his servant before. A ruse for Tania's benefit, no doubt. "Due in no small part to your endeavors."

Hearing the unfamiliar name, Tania gave a start of surprise. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the two men like candle flames; she frowned. Edric clenched his teeth to prevent all the words he wanted to say from boiling over like a cooking pot left unattended. I'm so sorry. I love you. Don't listen to him!

"Your eternal servant, my lord," he said instead.

"Evan? What's going on?" Tania's eyes were wide, like a child's. "Why are you talking like that?"

Drake, calm and smooth as a frozen lake, explained that Edric was his servant, sent to bring her bring her back from the mortal world.

She took a step back. Her curly hair bounced wildly as she shook her head.

"No, you've got it all wrong. Listen – " She covered her forehead with one hand, as if her head were weighed down with confusion. "I'm not really a princess. This isn't real. That guy down there is my boyfriend, and his name is Evan Thomas. And I'd really like to wake up now, please, before this gets any weirder."

She was fighting with her own mind, her mortal self struggling with the new reality she had been pulled into without knowing anything about it. Pain and confusion crossed her face as she argued with Drake, insisting over and over again that the castle on which they stood, their home world, even Drake himself were part of a dream. Finally she leaned down the banister and turned her eyes – her lovely green eyes with the gold dust in them – on Evan.

"Tell him the truth, Evan!"

The truth. He would have laughed if it weren't so horrible. The one thing he longed to tell her more than anything, and the one thing that would destroy them both if he said it now in front of his master.

"The truth is as Lord Drake has told you." He forced himself not to sigh, not to sound bitter, not to fix his eyes on his master with all the hard, corrosive hatred in his soul.

"No!" Tania shouted, her voice cracking with all the despair he could not express. "You love me and I love you. Please, Evan, don't do this to me!"

Do this to her? He was doing it to himself; every word he spoke was like a knife blade in Edric's ribs. His heart, which had been slowly crumbling all along, finally collapsed like a heap of broken glass fragments. Or like the ash-pile in the fireplace, which he saw from the corner of his eye. It looked about as desolate as he felt inside.

Every inch the proper valet, he asked his lord's permission to leave, stood up and walked down the length of the hall to the main doors. His feet felt weighted down with lead; it took enormous mental effort to move them away without dragging, and to prevent them from running back to Tania.

Before opening the doors, he looked back one last time.

He was too far away to see the expression on Tania's face, but he could see her pain in the stiff, hunched way she held herself, tightly wrapped in Drake's night-black cloak, with him hovering possessively behind her as if she were already his. In the gloom of the hall, Tania was small and bright, a spark of light like the first sunbeams of the dawn. His sun. Hadn't he called her that dozens of times?

He bowed deeply, to hide his stinging eyes, and left the hall.