Page 9 of Fallen Court

But I knew one thing he didn’t: I hadn’t told Channing shit. There hadn’t been time between meeting my brother and being betrayed.

“I do apologize for the unorthodox manner of your arrival. After Channing called, he told me what had happened with Lach and that the Hunt was on. That was how I knew you were in danger.” His face softened, the darkness in his eyes fading. Another carefully crafted mask of lies. It was little wonder that he’d fooled me when we’d first met, that he had fooled Channing into believing his intentions to protect me. “I was afraid for your safety.”

“Why would MacAlister try to hurt me?” I peered up at him. Was that MacAlister’s plan or his?

“Revenge, perhaps? He must have been upset over your part in ending Bain’s engagement to Ciara,” Oberon offered without missing a beat.

And the Academy Award for best smarmy, lying bastard goes to…

Oberon’s fingers tightened around my hand. I hated that I was still touching him. Could he feel my cold dread? Smell the sweat slicking my forehead? His giant ego must have prevented him from seeing the obvious. We were all our own worst enemies, a fact even fae princes weren’t immune to.

I was so preoccupied, he guided us through an arch and around several bushes before I realized we’d entered a hedge maze. Shaped yews stretched toward the sky, boxing us in and blocking any possibility of escape. My heart pounded harder with each step we took, with each turn and twist of the maze, every ounce of me wanting to pull free of his grasp and run back in the direction we’d come from. But that would give me away, and I didn’t know the way out.

Oberon fell silent, and in the warm sunlight I caught a glimmer of moving letters creeping along his neck. They weren’t inked in black like the tattoos that covered Lach’s body. These were iridescent, shimmering like scars. More easily hidden but no less telling. I halted, gently tugging my hand away.

“You’re thinking,” I whispered.

He didn’t respond for a long time. “You are quite convincing,” he said with a cold smile. “I almost want to believe you.”

Another trap—this one I’d walked into willingly, believing I was the predator, and now I was cornered. “I could say the same. Is that why you sent MacAlister after me?”

“I had my reasons.” He gestured toward another bend in the maze. When I didn’t budge, he sighed. “But I was telling the truth. I never planned to kill you. You’re more useful to me if you’re alive. If MacAlister wasn’t dead, he would pay for his zealotry.”

It might have been a relief to hear him admit it, but not while I was alone with him.

“Well, I feel safer now,” I said dryly. I crossed my arms, wishing I was wearing more than the flimsy nightgown as a chill ran through me.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be dead. As I told you earlier, I know what Lach wanted from you. It’s what I want, Cate. Let me show you.” He tipped his head for us to continue before crooking his arm.

Death waited beyond the hedge. I couldn’t trust him, but I would rather confront my fate head-on than wait for Oberon to stab me in the back. I brushed past him, ignoring his offered arm, and walked through the break in the yews. Oberon followed me…out of the maze and to the edge of the gardens.

The ground swelled a few short steps from me—the hills I’d glimpsed from the breakfast table. Did he expect me to run? Was this part of his manipulation, so he could claim he didn’t kill me himself but let me die at the hands of whatever lay beyond those hills?

“This is the Otherworld,” he said as he stepped beside me.

“No shit.” I rolled my eyes. At least the false pleasantries and games were over.

“No, this is the Otherworld.” He waved one hand, and the scene before us changed.

Darkness descended, the sun blotted from the sky in a near total eclipse that allowed only a slender ring of light to escape. The birdsong stopped, replaced by an unnatural silence that settled like a weight on my shoulders. Black vines twisted like poisoned veins across the pastoral hills, a graveyard of withered flowers peeking out from under them. A sickly rot flooded my nostrils, and I covered my mouth and nose against the smell. Heavy gray clouds choked the blue sky, blocking the sun as lightning splintered through them.

Oberon gazed at the distant nightmare. “Our magic has been warped—cursed. Light and shadow converge. Chaos nears. We must stop it, especially now that the curse on Earth’s creatures has been lifted.”

“You’re afraid of a bunch of vampires? I’ve never even met one.”

“Vampires?” He laughed. “No. I have a way to keep them under control, but others are stirring. Old monsters and even older gods. Our magic must be balanced again. Light and shadow and the earth that binds them. The Otherworld must be united before it’s too late.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, unable to keep my voice from trembling. Oberon wasn’t telling me the truth. Not the whole truth, at least. He was dangling bits of it like bait, waiting for me to bite. “You want to go to war.”

“I want to be king. War is a necessary evil.”

He had the evil part right. “There is no king.”

“There will be.” His smile turned my blood to ice. “When the Terra Court rises again and magic is made whole. That’s what Lach was after, but he will not be king. He will not be the savior. Not anymore.”

“The Terra Court is gone. It’s ash.” I spit the words at him, even as dangerous thoughts began to swirl in my own brain. I refused to let them take root.

“Such a child.” He clucked his tongue. “Nothing is ever truly gone.”