“What was your reason?”
His reason had been her. He’d visited on an errand for the Shadow King all those years ago, had met Bella and fallen in love with her. He’d petitioned the Summer Queen immediately for residency.
Circumstances being what they were, he’d been forced to eventually end his affair with Bella, but he’d never wanted to leave her proximity, so he’d remained in the Rose instead of returning to the Black. No matter how much it had hurt to see her so often and never be with her, he’d remained. “I stayed at the Rose Tower for you.”
“Stop, Ronan. Just stop. You confuse me.”
“Let me explain.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You have no idea how badly you broke my heart. I don’t want to hear it. I just want to get through this.” She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself. “Where is this hotel, anyway?”
“In good time. We’re almost at my friend’s place.”
She looked down the quiet, snowy, house-lined street. Then she looked back at their footprints on the walk behind them, quickly being covered over with a frosting of snow. “Your friend lives in the Ceantar Láir?”
“No, not exactly.” He murmured a low, magickally charged Maejian phrase, took two steps forward, and disappeared.
Bella stopped short and blinked. His hand reached out of nowhere and yanked her forward . . . into nowhere.
The world was hazy for a moment, then grew clear and sharp once more. They were no longer in the Ceantar Láir. A dark, gritty street now surrounded her. No snow, but the chill bit deeply into her bones.
He’d stepped them into a pocket, moved them from the Ceantar Láir back to the downtown area with one murmured phrase and a dash of strong magick.
Bella understood instantly that this was a part of the downtown area where the Seelie weren’t encouraged to visit. They were on the other side of Piefferburg Square, and the smooth black quartz of the Unseelie Court rose directly behind the small buildings to her right. This alley was nestled somewhere at the back of the Unseelie Court, right at its base.
“We’re standing in the shadow of the Black Tower,” Bella whispered, turning a wary circle on the snow-dusted cobblestones.
“Yes. We’re right at the door of the Piefferburg witch.”
“The Piefferburg witch is a friend, Ronan?” Her breath caught. “She’s Unseelie.” He flashed his teeth. “So am I, Bella.”
It was hard to keep in mind that he’d been a member of the Black Tower a lot longer than he’d been a resident of the Rose. “You have some of that blood, but you’re not so . . . so Unseelie as the Piefferburg witch.”
“I am very Unseelie Tuatha Dé. Almost one hundred percent, in fact. Only a drop of Seelie to muddy the pool. Do you have a problem with that, Shining One?” The voice was old, broken, gritty as the pavement Bella stood on. The woman’s body matched. The Piefferburg witch stood in a narrow doorway, the light of a small room behind her glowing softly, invitingly. “Don’t stare, child. It’s rude.” The wizened crone disappeared into the tiny building. “Come in, please.” Without hesitation, Ronan followed. Bella studied the doorway for a heartbeat, snowflakes drifting onto her cheeks and melting, then she entered.
Candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls and revealed a table with three chairs. All along the walls were shelves filled with books, boxes, and jars. All of it was in terrible disarray. The scent of dried plants, herbs, and various other items used in the witch’s special brand of magic assaulted Bella’s nose.
The ancient-looking witch bowed with a swiftness and flexibility that Bella could not believe. “It’s an honor to have such a high-ranking Seelie in my humble shop.” The scorn in her voice said otherwise.
“You are Bella Rhiannon Caliste Mac Lyr, descended without taint from the first Seelie Tuatha Dé Danann. I’ve seen you on Faemous, of course.”
Bella didn’t respond to the mockery she heard in the words.
With a wave of her hand, the crone transformed into a beautiful young blond woman wearing a shimmering green dress that hit her mid-thigh and a matching pair of kitten heels. Her makeup was flawless and beautiful; glittering bobs hung at her ears, and a matching pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat.
“Oh, my sweet Danu.” One might think that living in the Rose Tower would have exposed Bella to powerful magicks, but that was not true. None of the Seelie she knew had power like this. It had all been bred out of them in an effort to keep the bloodlines true. It was ironic and a pity.
“Don’t show off, Priss,” said Ronan, who was examining a crystal ball on the other side of the room.
The witch pouted. “I get so few pure Seelie. Let me play.”
Bella lowered her hand from her mouth and forcibly wiped the awe from her expression. “I’ve heard of you. You’re the only witch in Purgatory.”
“Incorrect.” Priss the witch raised an eyebrow. “I’m the only one of my kind in all the world.” She changed form again, this time to an older, pregnant woman. She wore overalls and a red kerchief wound through her auburn hair. Beautiful, maternal.
Maiden. Mother. Crone. She was all of them. A unique fae creature created from Unseelie and low-blood Seelie pairings, with unimaginable power. This was the Piefferburg witch.
Now she was back to crone. She cackled and crooked a finger at Bella. “I know what you two want and I have it.” She shuffled to one of the shelves and pulled a small wooden box from it. Slanting a sly gaze at her, the witch said, “I trust you can pay?”
She had a moment of unease. Arranging for payment with the fae was fraught with double meanings, loopholes, and treachery. “What am I buying?”
Ronan answered. “Supplies to weave a cloaking spell. A way to cover our tracks and make it more difficult for the Imperial Guard to track us.” He paused. “And I’m buying it.”
“Never mind. I’m giving the ingredients to you for free, just for the pleasure of watching the will of the Summer Queen thwarted.” The witch crackled again. “The circus is in town and I’ll gladly pay for my seat.”
Priss the witch shuffled back over to them with the box in hand. Both Bella and Ronan came close to peer inside as she pushed the carved top open on a whine of rusty hinges. Whatever was inside—Bella wasn’t sure she wanted to know—smelled dry and slightly decayed.