Page 16 of A Sword of Ice
“All done!” He tossed the quill back into the ink pot. “They aren’t glamored, but they’re perfect replicas of what travel papers should look like. I also took the liberty of giving you an alias. How do you feel about the name Miralda? Doesn’t matter, because I gave it to you anyway. So, here you go; Miralda Tweed, polar bear trainer.” He rolled up the pages with quick snaps of his fingers and handed them to her.
She extended her palm and took them. “You have my gratitude.”
Now she could get out, before everything got worse.
“Anytime, my dear. And because I feel like this is the last time we’ll be seeing one another I want to say, take care of yourself.” Something gleamed in his honey depths. Something knowing that she decided not to ponder on.
“You too, George.” She started to walk away but stopped, her gaze scanning through the contents of his building. “The humans are invading,” she whispered. A warning. Because she cared, and because she owed him that at least. “They might not come on this side, but…”
George chuckled and stood, unfurling his long legs. He took a step towards her, towering over her by a whole head. His dreadlocks swayed with his movements, and she had the urge to reach out and stroke one but stopped herself.
“Don’t worry about me, Iona.” His fingers brushed along the wrist pressed to her thigh. The touch was soft and comforting. “I’m always five steps ahead of the soldiers.”
“Because you’re a seer?” she whispered.
He winked. “Can’t give you all my secrets, Iona Wylde. Now go. Your familiar is waiting for you.” He nudged her, and she had no choice but to leave before she wore out her welcome.
And it wasn’t until she was on the other side of the building, door slamming in her face, and her feet taking her away, that she realized what he said.
Your familiar is waiting for you.
She wondered how he could possibly know when she hadn’t told him that at all.
10
A Web of Madness
George, as he was currently known in Porir, watched Iona walk away. Trailing behind her was the thinnest string of light. It glowed a silver-blue and sparkled like water reflecting off a spider’s web. Like the ghost of a soul attached to her back, following like a shadow.
The string spread across the floor, digging deep into the earth and fractured into separate strings of light in different colors that spread in various directions. One of those strings cut through George himself, tying him to her.
The threads of life were always weaved in arabesque waves; in different patterns and different ties of destiny. But if there was one thing George’s magic had taught him, it was that every single being was connected by Mana.
He could see the strings pulling everyone together as clearly as he could see in the dark. He reached out and caressed the sliver of light that connected him to Iona. A mere stroke of his fingertips, and he was within the confines of Iona’s mind, ripping past the invisible barriers and inhaling her every thought, her every memory.
The onslaught of her past was overwhelming but fascinating, and George took every sliver he could get like a starving man. Once he had his fill, he released the strand of her life and leaned back in his chair. Thousands of different colored strings flowed from his chest and broke up into so many different directions.
So many Fae, so many lives.
His fingers slid across the maze of filaments, and he was suddenly pelted with an assemblage of different voices and stories and memories.
They buzzed through his head like a fly caught in a web. After all, wasn’t that what his magic was? Just a tangled web of madness and secrets… and he could hear them all.
It was how he knew what was coming.Whowas coming. And Iona would go with them and change their world.
Not that George particularly cared what the world was like, one way or another. He was illegal, both in Tir na Faie and in the human lands, because he didn’t follow the rules. But if there was one thing he learned in his long immortal life, it was that rules were made to be broken.
Even the richest of people, human and Fae alike, broke rules of their own making. His fingers slid down the strings, passing each one by and trembling against the force of them all. Against brotherhoods, the rebels of the north, undercover Fae, and Unseelie in disguise until he touched a single string that he was already so familiar with. It was dark,evil, and hypocritical.
He scoffed as he released the strand and it hummed, vibrations echoing through the room like an instrument. If the humans were not capable of following their own rules, then why should he?
The answer was simple.
He didn’t have to.
“Fluffy!” His fuzzy creature responded, rolling out from under the table, across the floor, and up his leg until he was nestled comfortably in George’s lap, his small body vibrating. “Such a good boy!” His fingers caressed over the creature’s curved body.
He had no idea what the fuck Fluffy was, except that he wasn’t of this world. Some things, George liked to keep a mystery. Fluffy’s origins was one of those things.
