Page 70 of Immortal Sins
No one in the crowd seems to mind the fresh droplets of water shining across their foreheads. Along the three sides of the triangle, many staircases head up to the floors above, each of them reserved for one particular species or merchandise.
Cole points to the sky. “The inter-realm portal is at the top. You head up the right staircase and meet with an agent before departing.”
I skim the options. “There’s no mortal signage.”
“Mortals seldom leave Faerie,” Erron remarks. Both men insisted on tagging along.
“Aren’t they curious about their home world?” I ask.
Erron smirks. “Mortals in your realm have forgotten about magic. Most Faerie folks—mortal or not—find that distressing.”
Cole pulls me aside. “Let’s talk about this again. Hollows are extremely dangerous. Why would we stick out our necks and risk our lives for Theodore Darkwood?”
He’s not happy with my plan, a fact he’s made abundantly clear in the last few hours.
“Not Darkwood. If Dark Falls is in danger, the whole realm will be in jeopardy,” I remind him.
“If hollows are drawn to power sources, like our research suggests, they’ll hover close to the Academy. The Magisterium can put up barriers and restrict them to a small portion of the grounds—”
“It would not be a school anymore. It’d be a war zone. What happens when demons figure out the tear is active again? What then?” I say with an edge of sarcasm. The prince is stretching my patience.
Erron joins the conversation, indifferent to our efforts to speak privately. “The natural order of things is for the realms to be connected. When the Dryad War ended, after we sealed almost all the portals, the old leaders knew turning our collective backs on the underworld would come back to bite us, but they figured someone else would have to deal with the fallout.”
The thin crowd becomes thinner still, and as the last traveller whistles out, two large doors open on the mezzanine.
Theodore Darkwood appears, flanked by eight Magus wearing black and yellow capes. I used to dream of working for the Magisterium, so I could have been one of them. Protecting a crook. An elected one, but a crook all the same.
A part of me needs to believe the whole system isn’t rotten. Oz and Darkwood schemed meticulously to cover up their trails, so the Magisterium can’t all be corrupt.
Cold, garnet eyes and a sharp salt-and-pepper beard polish off his well-trimmed, deadly look as he strolls down the stairs. The wrinkles on his face are filled with poise and secrets. This man probably hasn’t had a spontaneous thought in a century, and his movements are crisp and purposeful like he planned them years in advance. Under his scrutiny, I’m a toddler with jitters. Undisciplined and wild, leaping from one direction to the next.
He expects me to throw myself at the windows like a frightened bird, and that might work to my advantage.
Darkwood barely acknowledges Erron and Cole, his predatory gaze fixed on me. “I want to talk to Miss Winslow alone.” He arches a brow. A one-on-one meeting with the President is a token of respect.
Cole doesn’t move an inch. “You can’t be serious.”
I squeeze his arm. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
My prince stiffens, his body immobile as a rock. I motion Darkwood to follow me to the closest bench at the bottom of the fountain. Water will drown out our voices while allowing Cole to keep an eye on me. I’m not naive enough to believe the vampire couldn’t curse me somehow, given the opportunity.
Theodore Darkwood sits on the marble ledge and gazes up at the waterfalls, hands linked over his crossed leg. I sit next to him, a foot of empty space between us.
Water sprinkles his face, and he licks his lips. “I’ve always wondered about you.”
He gauges me up and down. “Your father was nothing if not a shrewd, crafty politician. He knew what the stakes were in bringing you home. He could have adopted you under false pretences or placed you with a friend. He could have done a number of things that wouldn’t have affected his career—and Piper’s. But he chose to destroy years and years of hard work for a small, insignificant girl.” He chuckles the last part like it’s a joke.
“He did the right thing,” I grit out.
“By you, yes. But his first daughter? His wife? If he hadn’t had you, he might be President today instead of me. He had the power, the prestige, the panache for the job, but he gave it all up for you.” Theodore strokes his pointy beard. “I wonder what he’ll think when he sees how easily you succumbed to the enemies’ wiles.”
I swallow a hard lump. I wish I could tell him that Dad will be proud of me, that Fae aren’t the enemy, but I can’t fool myself.
“As President, I became aware of secret missions and the…special circumstances that preceded your birth. Winslow spent ten years in the underworld right before you were born.” An evil glint flickers in his red eyes. “Tell me. Have you ever met your mother?”
I press my lips together. I can’t confirm his suspicions, not in the slightest way.
“Ah! You already know. You’re smart to remain silent, but I’m not fishing for confirmation. You’re half-demon, Miss Winslow, and if I told the world, they wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”
