“Thinking.” Like it mattered to her.
Dylis placed a box on the kitchen counter.
He was tempted to ask about it but decided that he probably wouldn’t like the answer. That she came from Court bearing gifts put him on edge.
“Aren’t you curious?” She kicked his foot.
“About the box or what you found out about the Window?”
She grinned and bobbed down next to him. “Both.”
“Tell me about the Window.” But his gaze slid to the box she’d carried in. It came from Annwyn; he could feel the shimmer of magic from here.
Dylis tapped the glass oven door and an image formed of two polished copper mirrors. Oval hand mirrors— the kind one expected an evil queen to hold as she asked who was the fairest in the land.
Gooseflesh rose down Caspian’s arms. He was rapidly coming to dislike mirrors of any type. “What am I looking at?”
“This is the last known appearance of the Window and Counter-Window.”
“Why are there two?”
“Together they are a portal to Annwyn. The Counter-Window is somewhere in Annwyn, and the Window is here… we think.”
“How could something so valuable be lost in the mortal world?” He should be in bed dreaming of Lydia, not standing in the kitchen talking about fairy-made mirrors.
Dylis gave him a look that had lost its power around the time he’d turned eighteen. “Things get exchanged, misplaced, and forgotten about. You mortals die so fast it’s hard to keep track of where things go. Plus it can’t be tracked by those with fairy blood.”
“So I can’t find it anyway.” What had she been hoping, that he’d trip over it and realize what it was?
“You will be able to recognize it when you touch it. It’s why Shea came to you and not another changeling. It’s why I asked you to keep an eye out.”
“And I was thinking it was because of my father.”
“Ah, no. Most don’t know who your father is. Trust me when I say that’s the way you want to keep it.”
He’d take her word on that. “Why not destroy the Counter-Window and prevent him from getting through?”
Dylis raised her eyebrows as if he’d just suggested she chew iron filings. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to make something this powerful? The Court would rather it be returned.”
Of course they would because they wouldn’t be inconvenienced by the search. He would be. “There can’t be too many hand mirrors this old lying around. It’s probably in a museum.”
“No one has seen it for five hundred years. And no one has heard of it in a century. It’s probably changed shape a dozen times.” Dylis gave a shrug and the image vanished, leaving Caspian staring at himself in the dark glass of the oven, a frown creasing his forehead.
“It changes shape?” Whoever made the portal had gone to a lot of trouble to keep it from falling into the wrong hands.
“I told you that.” She crossed her arms. “You don’t seem to understand the implications. If Shea uses the Window to get back to Annwyn, the war he starts will cause ripples on the river so big that an outbreak of smallpox will look like a sneeze.”
“So how am I supposed to find a mirror that can’t be traced and changes shape?”
“I don’t know.”
Caspian’s jaw worked. While usually he didn’t discuss his work or his lack of dating with Dylis, Callaway House might be important. He pulled out his camera and scrolled through the pictures he’d taken that evening, stopping on the one of the fairy man. He’d zoomed in and got one of just that picture. “Do you know who he is?”
Dylis frowned. “Where did you get this?”
“I’m doing a valuation at Callaway House. His picture was up on the wall.” He paused, but knew he should tell her about the “ghost.” “I think there’s also a Grey in the house.”
“He is definitely not a Grey.”
“You can tell that from a picture?” Caspian looked at the picture again, but still couldn’t pick it.
She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Of course I can. Why is a Grey at the house? Did it follow you?”
“No, according to Lydia it’s always been there. She thinks it’s a ghost.”
“Greys don’t live forever. Are you sure it wasn’t just mice?”
Caspian rolled his eyes. “I know what fairy footsteps sound like. Plus, Greys make me…” there was something about them that warned him they were near, “tingle.” And not in a good way.
“Interesting.” She took the camera and looked at it again. “Musician?”
The look on her face was far too calculated. “What?”
“Just… the last name connected with the Window was Riobard; he was a Court minstrel who stole some things and left, never to be seen again.”
Until now. Cold snaked down his spine. If Riobard was the man in the picture, then the Window could be at Callaway House. It could be why the ghost was there but unable to find it.
“If a fairy touched the Window, would they know what it was?”
“It’s a secret portal; you have to know how to activate it.”
“So even if a Grey found it, without knowing it was the Window it would be useless.”
Dylis nodded. “You can see why it’s so valuable.”
Oh, he did. He also knew why Shea had come to him, and why the ghost was constantly searching. Without knowing how to activate the Window it was just another mirror. But Shea would know how to use it. Suddenly finding it before Shea did became a whole lot more important. At the moment only he and Dylis knew it was most likely at Callaway House. But if Shea realized it, Lydia could be in danger.
Dylis looked at him, and he knew she’d been thinking the same thing. “You have to get back there and find it.”
Finding the Window was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack, even for him. Callaway House was filled with stuff, then there was the stable and the cabins, and so many places to hide something. For all he knew it was buried, or in the roof. “I need the Counter-Window.” It would be his best chance to find it.
He took a breath as he realized what he was doing. Like any fairy he was getting drawn into the twisty world of fairy politics and finding it exciting. No, he was doing it for Lydia. Having a Grey in the house and having something that valuable and dangerous in her possession wasn’t good. She knew nothing of fairies and could be tricked into all kinds of trouble.
“I’m working on it. In the meantime, keep looking; we have to find it first.” She tapped the box she’d brought with her. “I spoke with your father about Shea. This is from him.”
“No, no. I won’t be sucked into accepting gifts. You can take it back.” Caspian’s gaze flicked between the box and Dylis.
“It’s from your
The box smelled exotic. Sandalwood. It had been delicately carved so the flowers on the sides looked like they were swaying in the breeze. He narrowed his eyes—were they swaying? He reached out his hand to touch the wood and find out, but stopped millimeters from the surface. He blinked and broke the spell the box was weaving.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know. It’s a gift.”
“What’s it for?” If she’d expected him to be delighted his father had acknowledged him, she was wrong. His father had never shown any interest in his life, or even in getting to know him. Biology didn’t mean squat.
“I don’t know, he didn’t say.”
In thirty-five years his father had never sent a gift, yet one mirror needed to be found and one banished fairy lord appeared on Caspian’s doorstep and suddenly presents arrived. He was as suspicious as he was tempted. He wanted to know what was inside. Even though he hated his fairy blood, particularly at the moment, he still wanted to meet his father and ask all the questions he’d had growing up—even if he didn’t like the answers.
