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  The White Knight held out his hand. “Come with me, Alicia. Come home.”

  “But…” Alicia could feel herself slipping. What was there to hold on to? What of her days in that other place meant anything in comparison with the light and love that waited in her true home? She’d known only confusion and cold confinement there. Nothing else.

  No. There was something else. She’d remember it in a minute, if only she could see beyond the White Knight’s eyes. There had been warmth with the cold, moonlight with the darkness and the mists.

  “No, Alicia, dear. Nothing like that. Come home now.”

  Alicia dear. My dear. She remembered someone else speaking her name like this. A man. He had spoken her name in love, and in trust. Someone other than the White Knight. A man with steel and moonlight in his gray eyes.

  She remembered.

  “Edward,” she whispered, then shouted: “Edward!”

  Alicia Hartwell whirled away from her White Knight, and ran. She ran for her life and soul from the perfect voice that called her name. The hedge-bound paths writhed and twisted around her, but Alicia kept running. She knew this maze. Her feet had traveled it a thousand times. The right-hand turnings would take her out of it. But there were no turnings. There was nothing but unbroken green walls stretching in each direction.

  “Alicia,” called the White Knight behind her. “Come back, Alicia.”

  Her feet faltered, and would have slowed, but in that moment, she saw the broken branch and cried out loud. The hedge near it rippled like a reflection in a river, and Alicia plunged recklessly into the branches. They yielded before her like a dream and she found herself on the new path. Alicia sobbed in her relief, and ran on.

  But just as the walls of the labyrinth had grown high, they had grown impossibly long. She might be able to find the turnings, but she was out of breath, and her energy was flagging. Her feet were so heavy. She staggered. A stitch lanced up her side and she stumbled.

  “Edward,” she panted. “Edward, help me.”

  Alicia!

  Her head jerked up.

  I’m here, Alicia! I’m here!

  She felt him, distant as yesterday, but blessedly real.

  “I can’t see you, Edward!” she cried.

  I’m here. Here!

  A thread of magic brushed Alicia’s mind, and her mind grasped it. At once, it became a rope. No. It was a lifeline and Edward held the other end. Sailor that he was, he hauled on that line steadily, patiently, hand over hand. He took up all the slack, keeping the line taut so she could follow. There was no need for turning now that she held this lifeline. No need to even look at the maze around her.

  Mundane daylight blossomed around her, and Alicia fell into Edward’s waiting arms. For one moment, she looked up into his clear, loving, oh-so-human eyes. Then darkness swallowed her whole.

  Twenty

  Alicia collapsed against Carstairs. A mind-numbing bolt of fear shot through him as he caught her up and cradled her close. There was no time to consider what had just happened and what it meant. He had to get her out of here.

  He swept Alicia into his arms and strode across the garden to the side gate he and Rathe had found earlier. Between them, they’d already dispensed with the lock, just in case Carstairs found himself in need of a back exit during his time at Hartwell House. He hated himself deeply for abandoning Verity, but they’d arrange her rescue before the day was out. His first responsibility was to get Alicia away, away from this house and the portal to the Twilight Realms before it could open again.

  Rathe, Sorcerer that he was, had felt Carstairs coming, and already had the rusted, garden gate open.

  “Getting to be a habit, isn’t it, Carstairs?” Rathe remarked, even as he quickly and calmly helped Carstairs maneuver Alicia’s limp form into the closed carriage. “What caused this?”

  “The Fae,” Carstairs answer curtly.

  Rathe wasted no more time with questions. He clambered at once into the driver’s seat and touched up the horses. This time, they didn’t bother with stealth or concealment. Rathe whistled and shouted to clear the traffic, barreling them down the street and cracking the whip high over the horses’ heads.

  Carstairs also didn’t bother with concealment, or pretense at propriety. He held Alicia tightly. Now that they were away from the space of emptiness created by the labyrinth knot, magic came easily when he called. He trickled it into Alicia as he might offer water to a patient in a fever.

  Alicia. Alicia, wake up. Look at me.

  Alicia groaned and stirred. Slowly, her lids fluttered open and he saw her eyes, dazed but clear of glamour’s clouding influence.

  “You’re back.” He tightened his arms around her, as if he had to still convince himself it was Alicia he held. “You’re truly back. God in Heaven, I thought…” He did not complete the sentence. Alicia lifted her hand to his cheek, brushing her fingers against his skin. She smiled, and her lids slowly closed. She nestled against him, settling into natural sleep.

  Carstairs’s head fell back against the seat. His strength was gone, drowned by relief. He could only hold Alicia against him. There was nothing else in the world but her warmth and her deep, steady, breathing.

  He lost track of time so far that he was startled when the carriage’s rocking slowed and stopped. A moment later, Rathe opened the door. Carstairs waved the Sorcerer off, and himself carried Alicia inside and up to her room. He laid her on the bed and pressed his hand against her forehead. She was warm, and not fevered. Her pulse and breathing were both steady. She still slept, exhausted by her ordeal, nothing more.

  Only then could Carstairs stand to back away. He ran his shaking hands through his hair.

  “What happened in there?” asked Rathe from the doorway.

  Carstairs started and turned. He hadn’t even noticed the other man had followed him inside. He must have been white, because Rathe cursed mildly and pulled on the bell.

  “Brandy,” he said to the maid who answered. “And whatever food Cook has on hand.”

  She curtsied and hurried away. “You’d better sit down before you fall, man,” said Rathe.

  Carstairs’s first instinct was to refuse. He was, however, none too steady on his pins, and so sank into the chair beside the fire. His gaze would not leave Alicia. She turned restlessly, her hand reaching out in her dreams. But who did she seek? Him? Or that…other?

  “Do you know which of the Fae came calling?” Rathe asked.

  Carstairs nodded, his jaw clenched. “The king.” He did not speak the name. The house was warded, but if His Twilight Majesty, King Oberon, actively sought after Alicia, his name could summon him here no matter how powerful those wards might be.

  Rathe sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Carstairs’s fist clenched on his knee. It was Queen Tatiana who most frequently disturbed the peace of Britain with her ambition to conquer and rule. That the king was here now…Carstairs couldn’t even begin to guess what it foretold. “You’d better go alert the captain that he’s taken a direct interest in events.”

  “Events and Alicia,” said Rathe quietly.

  “Yes. And Alicia.”

  Rathe rested a hand briefly on Carstairs’s shoulder, and then left the room. He’d go at once to Smith. Smith in turn would sound the alarm. The other agents of the Service in London would go on high alert and then…and then…and then what?

  A knock sounded on the door and Carstairs almost snapped for them to go away. In time, however, he remembered Rathe had sent for food and called for them to enter. His footmen brought in a platter holding what Cook had surely intended for luncheon. There was a raised pigeon pie, a cold lobster salad, boiled potatoes, and a bottle of claret. Seeing the strained expression on their employer’s face, the servants retreated hastily. Edward downed a hasty glass of the claret, welcoming its steadying heat. Then, more because he was painfully aware of his own weakness than because of any appetite, he cut himself a piece of the pie and wolfed
it down.

  All the while Alicia slept. Carstairs watched her, and cursed himself for a selfish fool. How much time had he wasted gratifying his desire for her? He should have been training her to the use of her powers, and instructing her about the dangers of the world in which she had found herself. He could have helped her delve into her own memories for what clues they had to offer. Then she would have been forewarned and forearmed when the Fae King came to her.

  But no, not he. He’d seen her beauty, felt her fresh and ready passion, and behaved like a careless youth. He’d convinced himself there would be plenty of time to attend to business once pleasure was done. In so doing, he’d endangered Alicia. He was worse than a fool. He was the same weakling he’d always been. Just the same.

  Bleak memory wrapped about him. He felt the weight of Nick’s body in his arms, heard him croak out his final warning. Edward spun around, to meet the Fae woman’s attack. He grabbed it with his own power, twisted and hauled, and hauled again, binding them together so tightly, she’d had no choice but to continue pouring her magic into him. He’d drained her dry and left her dead on the floor. But Nick was dead as well, rendering it the hollowest of all victories. Edward had let himself be deceived, and let Nick down, fatally. And he’d almost done the same to Alicia.

  On the bed, Alicia stirred again and murmured his name. Edward was at her side in an instant, kneeling on the carpet and taking up her hand.

  “I’m here,” he breathed. “Alicia, I’m here.”

  At the sound of his voice, her eyes snapped open and she struggled to push herself upright.

  “Gently, gently, love.” He helped her sit, wrapping his arms around her for support and comfort, but whether it was for her or himself, he could not tell. “It’s all right. You’re safe home.”

  Her eyes darted around the room, and he felt her mind doubting, searching, and finally accepting.

  “Thank God.” She sagged against him. “Oh, Edward…I was so afraid.”

  “I know. I know.” He cradled her against his chest once more and kissed the top of her head. “But it’s over—do you hear me? Over.”

  She shook her head and the pain that creased her features cut into him swift and sharp. He kissed her. He had to. He felt her yield and open to drink in the reassurance and need he pressed into that single kiss. She believed. She trusted. He felt it, and he was not sure whether his heart would sing or break.

  When at last Carstairs could bear to break the kiss, he had to stand up and back away. Otherwise he would begin to caress her. He’d lay her down and take her, right here and now, all resolve forgotten in his need to prove that Alicia was indeed whole and well and with him.

  “You should eat something.” He poured a scant measure of claret into the second glass and brought it to her along with a thick slice of the pie and a dollop of potatoes. “Sip it slowly.”

  She did, and she ate the food in neat bites, demonstrating to him that she was no more than ordinarily hungry. Another cause for relief. Despite this, when she had finished and handed him back the glass, she dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap and he saw her cheeks turn pale.

  “He’s still out there, Edward,” she whispered. “He’ll never stop searching for me.”

  Edward set the glass aside and settled onto the bed beside her. “Tell me what happened.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I…It’s hard. It’s like I was dreaming.”

  “I know. But you must try.”

  He felt her struggle, but slowly she began to recount what had happened to her, first in her aunt’s room and then in the maze. Each word stabbed deep into Edward’s soul. When she finished, Carstairs wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close once more.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  For a moment, he didn’t think he’d spoken aloud, but Alicia turned her questioning face up to him. “It’s not your fault, Edward. I knew I was taking a risk, but I let Aunt Hester goad me into it. She promised me answers.”

  “And if I’d been less of a fool, you would have had those answers before I took you back into that house.” Alicia opened her mouth to protest, but Carstairs shook his head at her. “I knew the Fae had made you a target, and I didn’t take proper precautions. It is my fault.”

  “But why me?” Her palm pressed against his chest, seeking the place over his heart. “Why is any of this happening to me?”

  “That bargain your ancestress made to try to protect her family from Matthew Hopkins was the beginning. It should have also been the end,” he added as much to himself as to her. “But the Hartwells carried the tokens forward. That could have tied them to him.” He frowned. “That gate—the labyrinth you passed through—was created as much to keep anything from getting out of the Twilight lands as to prevent people from going in. But why? Why would he take such an interest in the Hartwells?”

  They sat in silence for a long moment, with his arms about her and her hand against his chest. Slowly, her fingers curled into a fist and she sat herself upright. Reluctantly, Carstairs let her go.

  “We have to know, Edward.” Alicia met his eyes. “And not just about that bargain or the Fae. I have to know what was done to me and why.”

  “Yes. Yes, you do.” He pushed himself to his feet and stalked away from her. “Without a full understanding of what’s happened to you as well as your family, the…White Knight might be able to use your questions to lure you back under his enchantment.”

  Alicia’s jaw hardened. “No. That is never happening again.”

  Edward tapped the back of one hand against the palm of the other. He had to master himself. What he truly wanted to do was spirit Alicia away to some safe fortress. He’d lock her tight within and stand guard over the door. Nothing would ever harm her again while he lived. The wish was both futile and foolish, but it was a hard moment’s struggle before he could banish it.

  “I was hoping we could do this gradually, but Alicia, we are out of time.”

  “I understand.”

  “We must find out what happened to you as a child. You must remember how you first met the White Knight and what happened afterward.”

  “I did know.” She rubbed her temple. “In the maze, with him, I remembered it all again. But it’s gone now.” She gazed up at him in bewilderment.

  “That’s the nature of Faery glamour.” He sat down on the bed beside her and took both her hands. “What they do and say to you only feels real in their presence. But now we must try what we can find.” He saw the determination gathering in Alicia’s eyes, and Carstairs’s heart swelled with pride. A lesser woman would have been in tatters by now. But not Alicia. She would always fight. “You remember how you used the magic I channeled for you to reach outward and brought out the history of the statue and your aunt’s ring? Now you must use it to reach inward, to bring out your own history.”

  “Very well.” She tightened her fingers around his. “I will try.”

  “I will be with you, Alicia. I will be there every moment.” I will not leave you alone again, he vowed in the depths of his private mind. But even as he did, he wondered if it was a vow he could keep.

  “Let us begin,” Alicia said.

  Edward put his fingertips under Alicia’s chin and tilted her face up so her gaze met his own. Her eyes were so beautiful, filled with amber and gold, like the sun rising in springtime. She met his gaze without fear, opening herself to receive the power he drew up for them. The current of it flowed into his soul, and he focused his mind on where his hands held hers, willing the power from himself into her. He felt her gather up its strands and draw them deep into herself where she twisted them into a thread for her mind, a thread she could follow deep into her past.

  Go on, Alicia. I’m with you.

  Carstairs had walked in the thoughts of others before, but never had he gone directly into the mind of the Sorcerer for whom he was acting as Catalyst. Those other times had been like navigating a crowded ballroom while searching for a single person. This was like walking beside A
licia down a long corridor lined with windows. Each window looked out over a different landscape. There, Morris and Gavin Hartwell explained the terms of her marriage contract. There, Verity fell into a fit of giggles over something she’d heard at a party and puzzled jealousy at being able to laugh so easily filled Alicia. There, Aunt Hester looking down on her from a great height and spoke in a voice like stone and iron. You are a wicked child! Just like your wicked mother!

  Alicia hesitated by the window of thought, and drew closer to him.

  It is a memory only, Carstairs assured her. It cannot hurt you.

  No. But, we’re close. Do you feel it?

  Yes.

  I’m afraid, Edward.

  Don’t be. We’ll look at it together. Nothing will harm you here.

  The sweetness of her trust was nearly unbearable. He felt her move closer to the memory, and slowly the scene blossomed around them. There was a green wood and a running beck, ice cold against bare feet and soaking his skirts. Her skirts. He was remembering as Alicia remembered. This was Alicia before the enchantment: the defiant, confident, adventurous, merry child filled with mischief. Edward found himself torn between delight to discover this part of her, and agony at the realization of all that had been lost. As Alicia, he ran up the grassy bank to the hill. This was her favorite hill, smooth and green and crowned by a single oak tree. Mama said she mustn’t come here. Papa said it could be dangerous. But Alicia did not care. She wanted to climb the tree and look out across the country. It was like she could see the whole world from its branches.

  But today was different. Today, somebody stood under the tree. He was a tall man dressed in white armor and a white surcoat, like one of the knights in the book Mama had been reading her at bedtime.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded Alicia with all a child’s outrage at finding a good game interrupted by a clumsy grown-up.

  “This is my hill.” The man had a nice voice and his eyes sparkled. He was very pretty. Not handsome like Papa, but pretty in a strange and wild sort of way, like a bird or a stag.