CHAPTER 38

The world briefly dimmed, but she wasn't out of the fight yet. Now that they were close, she grappled the goblin onto the ground, trying to twist an arm behind her back. The goblin, who was surprisingly strong, forced her way out of the hold.

She growled, and slashed out with her claws. Tink took the hit, her dress tearing in the process, then landed another punch to the face that knocked her silly.

"Stupid kitty cat. Tink beat all nine lives out of you, then make you into a rug!"

Shaking her head, she charged forward and tackled the goblin to the ground where they became a bundle of hair, teeth and nails. Shrieks of rage came from both of them, and the other woman tried to break them up, but took a nasty slash to the arm and backed away.

When Tink bit down on her tail, she twisted around and used her claws to gouge Tink in the eyes, blinding her. She used that moment to break free. With a powerful leap, she crossed over the bed and landed by the window. It slid open easily, and she scrambled onto the ledge, looking down. The fall didn't look too bad, and she could probably outrun the woman in the fountain.

So she jumped.

A powerful hand grabbed her painfully by the scruff of the neck, her legs dangling over the ground below. She squirmed, flailing her arms around wildly in an attempt to get away.

"Hey, stop, you'll fall. Hey, knock it off!" The woman who spoke to her had a slight French accent, and she was able to twist around enough to catch just a glimpse of large stone wings, followed by the concerned face of a statue.

She was being held by a gargoyle.

Adrenaline surged through her body, and she fought even harder to escape. The pain behind her neck was terrible, and she thought her skin might rip, but she had to get away.

The gargoyle sighed. "Okay, then. Whatever." The monster cocked up her spare fist and swung it, the impact immediately twisting the whole world sideways.

Darkness swallowed her whole, carrying her away on a symphony of silence.

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Cecilia's cage was constructed of cold iron with silver accents. Not only were the bars close enough together that she couldn't hope to squeeze through them, but the floor was also made of cold iron. Just the act of walking across the cage would cause her pain, but luckily she had a swing to sit on. It was a simple wooden plank, attached to the ceiling by ropes. Maybe the queen had given it to her to be kind, or maybe as a depressing reminder of her time on Earth at the Radley estate.

It was always hard to tell with the faerie queen.

On Earth, she could only see vague outlines of the world, brightened by the spirits of the creatures that walked it. Here in the Otherlands, the world itself was made of magic, and she was able to view the world as it was normally seen.

The court of the faerie queen was luxurious. She had built the court into the base of a mountain, and three different streams terminated in waterfalls that fed the pool that surrounded Her Majesty's throne room. Behind the one of the falls was where servants and vassals waited until they were called. A series of stepping stones led to the central platform, and it was here that the queen sat on a solitary throne.

Today, however, court was not in session, and the only sound she heard was the steady rush of water into the pool. Her cage had been placed on a stone just behind the queen's throne. None of the other fae dared to even look Cecilia's way, terrified that some of the queen's anger might become misdirected.

She wondered how long it had been on Earth. The flow of time between the worlds was constantly shifting, and the light here was unnatural. Assuming that the faerie queen only held court once a day, then she had already been Underhill for three years. That could mean an hour in the real world, or maybe even fifty years, and she wouldn't know until she returned.

If she returned.

The chamber filled with a sense of foreboding, and the faerie queen stepped out of a ball of light appearing briefly on the other side of the room, walking slowly across the rocks on bare feet.

Golden hair cascaded down her back, tumbling around all six wings that protruded from her shoulder blades. The wings themselves were made of white light, and they blinked out of existence, transforming into a sheer, silken cloak that dragged along the ground.

"Good morning, a leanbh." The queen walked up to Cecilia's cage. "And how are you this day?"

"I am well, Your Majesty." Cecilia bowed her head in reverence.

"Oh, good. I would hate to hear that you felt otherwise." The queen tilted her head. "I do wonder though. Do you still think often of him?"

"I do, Your Majesty." Cecilia fought to keep a smile from forming at the thought of Mike. "Every moment."

"Interesting. You pine for him, though he has made no effort to come retrieve you." The queen sat on her throne, which hovered above the ground. It rotated so that she could face Cecilia. "My spies are watching him, you know. He has no interest in coming for you. I won't be cruel and tell you that he is glad you are gone, but I will say that he knows that you are here and simply can't be bothered. Knowing this, do you feel any different?"

"No, Your Majesty." It wouldn't do any good to lie, for the queen would know. "I still love him like I have loved no other."

"Clearly." The queen rose and paced outside of Cecilia's cage. "And why do you suppose that is? Is it the piece of his soul that festers inside of you? Is it the whimsy of human emotions you are ill equipped to handle? Tell me, a leanbh."

"I don't know, Your Majesty." Cecilia lowered her head. "My time with him was brief, but it has meant more to me than the entire time I have walked the world of Man. It started so simple, as a curiosity, but something happened." Even she wasn't sure what. His magic had done something to her, something that shouldn't have been possible. A piece of his soul had swapped places with her very life force. The sidhe didn't have souls in a traditional sense, which meant that Mike had unknowingly become part faerie.