Changeling Illusion (Thirteen Realms Book 3) Read online

  CHANGELING ILLUSION

  Marina Finlayson

  Copyright © 2019 Marina Finlayson

  www.marinafinlayson.com

  All rights reserved.

  The right of Marina Finlayson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth).

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.

  Cover design by Karri Klawiter

  Editing by Larks & Katydids

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio

  Published by Finesse Solutions Pty Ltd

  2019/01

  Author’s note: This book was written and produced in Australia and uses British/Australian spelling conventions, such as “colour” instead of “color”, and “-ise” endings instead of “-ize” on words like “realise”.

  To be notified when Marina Finlayson’s next novel is released, plus get special deals and other book news, sign up for her newsletter at:

  www.marinafinlayson.com/mailing-list

  Table of Contents

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  ALSO BY MARINA FINLAYSON

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  1

  Moonlight silvered the room, shining through the open wall of the pavilion. Outside, a lone frog croaked somewhere in the garden, but that small noise wasn’t what had woken me.

  My naked back felt chilled. When I rolled over, I realised Kyrrim was gone, though the place where he had lain was still warm from the heat of his body. I was still blinking in confusion when a figure appeared in the black rectangle of the door into the hallway—Kyrrim returning, the long length of Ecfirrith glinting in his hand.

  Not a midnight jaunt to the kitchen for a snack, then. Not unless he was using his sword to cut bread these days.

  Still groggy from sleep, I sat up, my heart rate picking up. “What’s wrong?”

  He crossed to my side on silent feet. All he wore was a pair of jeans and, even in my alarm, I took a moment to appreciate the way the moonlight fell on the sculpted muscles of his chest and torso. What could I say? This was only our third night together; it would be a long time before his beauty didn’t knock me for six every time I saw him.

  “Someone is in the sith. Where is the cloak Raven gave you?”

  Several someones were in the sith, of course. Willow owned it, and she and Sage, my best friends, lived here, as did the three servants that Willow’s parents had felt necessary to support her station in the appropriate style. Clearly, that wasn’t what he meant. He wouldn’t be prowling the grassy halls with a naked blade in his hand otherwise.

  I slid out of bed, hastily throwing on his discarded T-shirt, which was just long enough to cover my bare arse. Raven’s cloak of shadows was on a shelf in the walk-in closet. I moved as quietly as I could in the dark, locating it by the feel of the slippery black feathers.

  “Put it on.” Kyrrim was right behind me, breathing the words into my ear with as little sound as possible. “Stay out of the way.”

  I shot him an incredulous look, but he was already moving, ghosting out into the garden so silently I lost track of him almost immediately. Stay out of the way? While there were intruders in the sith, threatening the people I loved most in all the world? Not bloody likely.

  But I put the cloak on, because that, at least, was a good idea. It was very short, hardly worthy of the name “cloak”, but its value wasn’t in its appearance. It clung to my shoulders, fastening itself and, as soon as it did, I became invisible. Handy little doodad. Every girl should have one.

  While I was there, I grabbed two throwing knives. Who could be in the sith? How was it even possible that we could have intruders? Siths were magical pieces of the fae Realms that had been broken off—self-contained little bubbles that many fae living in the mortal world used as retreats and places of safety. They were safe because they were impregnable—they couldn’t be entered without the invitation of the owner.

  But I trusted Kyrrim’s warrior instincts. He was a Knight of the Realms, sworn servant of the king, and only the best of the best rose so high. If he said we had intruders in the sith, the knives were coming with me.

  He’d gone outside, and I was tempted to follow him, but concern for Sage and Willow drove me into the hallway instead. Willow might well be awake, since most fae preferred the night hours. But living in the mortal world as we did, many of us had adapted to the diurnal rhythms of humans, working during the day and sleeping for at least part of the night. Sage had work tomorrow, and would probably be asleep and vulnerable just down the corridor from us.

  The sith was a large one, which boasted extensive gardens. Willow was from Spring, so gardens were really her thing. Her home followed the Spring style of construction, being a series of interconnected pavilions, all partially open to the surrounding gardens. That was great for enjoying their beauty, but not so hot from a security point of view.

  Of course, the security was meant to be in the fact that no one could enter a sith without the permission of the owner.

  The short grass was soft on my bare feet as I padded down the hallway, invisible in my feathered cape. Sage’s door was shut. I eased it open just wide enough to allow me to slip inside, then closed it behind me.

  Her room was similar to mine, huge and airy. One whole wall opened onto the garden; one door led to her bathroom, and another into her walk-in closet. Both were closed. The harp the king had given her stood in a corner near the enormous bed, whose gossamer curtains were draped from the posts like fairy wings. Her cropped head poked out from under the sheet, which was snuggled around her neck.

  So far so good. A little of the tension unwound from my limbs as I stood, listening. The croak of the frog was louder here—that was a good sign. Nothing had disturbed him. The only other sound was the soft trickle of water from the fountain outside her room—a simple arrangement of rocks piled atop each other with water welling from the top and falling down into a wide pool at the bottom. Very Zen. Perhaps the frog lurked in the low-growing plants that surrounded it.

  I watched the garden for long moments, but nothing stirred out there. Quietly, I moved to Sage’s bedside. Up close, I could hear her breathing.

  “Sage,” I whispered. “Wake up.”

  She came awake in an instant, unlike me, her brow furrowing as she looked around the dark room and failed to see any sign of me.

  “I’m wearing the cloak,” I added. “Kyrrim says someone’s inside the sith.”

  Her frown settled into a scowl as she slid out of bed. She was wearing short black pyjamas with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on them. Someone had been shopping in the boys’ wear section again. Silently, she opened the top drawer of her bedside chest of drawers and removed a gun. Suddenly, she looked a lot more grown-up.

  “Is that thing loaded?”

  Her teeth flashed in a brief grin. “Wouldn’t be much use if it wasn’t, would it?”

  “You can’t keep a loaded gun in your bedside drawer!”

  “Says who?”

&n
bsp; Why did she even have a gun? It was hardly the weapon of choice for a fae. She was only half-fae, but she’d spent most of her life in the Realms and had totally drunk the Kool-Aid as far as the fae way of life went. She was way more traditional than I was. Her motorbike was the only modern thing that she’d adopted with enthusiasm—or so I’d thought. Seemed I’d been wrong on that count.

  “Where’s Willow?” she asked. She and Willow were tight—more like sisters than friends—and had known each other most of their lives.

  I shrugged, then realised she couldn’t see me. “Don’t know. I’m going to look for her next.”

  “Where did Kyrrim go?”

  “Outside.”

  This time, her smile had a feral look. “Then that’s where I’m going. He shouldn’t get all the fun.”

  I rolled my eyes. She couldn’t see that either, of course, but it was a habitual reflex around Sage. “You have a very strange idea of fun.”

  I didn’t bother telling her to hide somewhere safe. That would get about the same response from her as it had from me.

  We stepped out into the garden together, and she disappeared into the trees. I walked around the outside of the guest pavilion where we slept, keeping off the pebbled paths, passing the main one that housed the shared living areas. Behind it lay a smaller one reserved for Willow. It had a tiny stream running through it and trees holding up the roof. Inside, she had a bedroom as well as a separate lounging area and a small library that doubled as an office.

  I slipped into the bedroom, which was open on two sides to the garden. Nothing stirred in the dark room, and there was no figure tucked under the covers. As I’d thought, she was still awake somewhere. A quick search of the other rooms revealed that that somewhere wasn’t here. She must still be in the main pavilion.

  I headed back that way, moving silently, as a childhood spent hunting in the forests of Autumn had taught me. There was no sign of either Kyrrim or Sage. The sith was as quiet as the grave.

  As I drew level with Sage’s bedroom, something pinged at my subconscious. My steps slowed as I tried to figure out what had alerted me. No one was moving anywhere in sight, and the only sound was the soothing trickle of water in the fountain.

  Ah—that was it. The frog had fallen silent. I stiffened, every sense on high alert. Someone must have passed this way. It might have been Sage or Kyrrim, of course. The faintest scent of something unusual teased my nose, and I sniffed the air, trying to decipher the unusual aroma. That was the smell of an unfamiliar magic. Not one of my friends, then.

  Moving like a shadow, I headed back towards my own room. Was someone checking the bedrooms for sleepers? Whoever had broken in was clearly fae—I hadn’t needed that whiff of strange magic to know that. No mortal could break into a sith. I was still certain of that, even if I’d been sure before tonight that no fae could either. Who could they be after?

  Willow herself could be the target. Anyone who kidnapped her could expect a massive ransom from the Lord of Spring for his beloved daughter. Sage probably didn’t have any enemies, but Kyrrim had plenty.

  And me? There’d been several attempts on my life in recent weeks, and I wasn’t expecting that to change any time soon. Saving the king from captivity might have won me the king’s gratitude, but it certainly hadn’t earned me any brownie points with the Lord of Summer, who I still believed was behind the plot. Others had shouldered the blame for it, but nothing would convince me that Kellith wasn’t angling to take the throne for himself. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to find that Kellith had stooped to sending assassins against me.

  His motive just depended on how much he knew. Maybe it was payback for foiling his plans—but if he knew of my connection with the Illusion refugees, it could well be an attempt to stop me before he lost the territory he’d snatched from Illusion.

  Not that my death would halt that. The king knew of the refugees’ survival now. One way or another, Kellith was losing the captured territory, and I certainly wouldn’t be shedding any tears over that.

  I saw no one on the way back to my bedroom. Looking at the rumpled sheets gave me an idea, and I hastily stuffed a few cushions into the bed and pulled the blankets up, to make it look as though someone still slept there. It wasn’t especially convincing, but at least the pillow playing the part of my head was fluffy enough to look like hair at first glance. Satisfied with the deception, I stepped back against the wall to wait.

  Perhaps five minutes later, my vigil was rewarded. A slim man dressed in black appeared out of the darkness under the trees and moved along the path without crunching a single pebble. I’d spent years stalking deer through the woods, and I’d never learned the trick of walking on pebbled paths without making any noise. A faint whiff of that unfamiliar magic reached me—a smell like butterscotch or caramel. It was probably Air magic, and the intruder’s feet weren’t actually touching the ground at all, though they looked as if they were.

  He stole across the grass and slipped into my room, passing close enough to where I stood concealed that I held my breath in case the sound of my breathing gave me away. But I needn’t have worried—a subtle change in his posture told me when the man noticed the “sleeper” in the bed, and from that moment, he had eyes for nothing else.

  Moonlight glinted on something in his hand, and I carefully shifted my grip on my knife, raising it, ready to throw. I couldn’t quite make out what he was holding—it wasn’t a knife, but there could hardly be any doubt of the man’s intentions. Still, I would wait and see what he did first. I was no Kellith. Never let it be said that Allegra Brooks was the type to shoot first and ask questions later.

  He approached the bed, fading into the darkness of the room. I could have sworn the soft grass carpeting the floor didn’t even bend beneath his feet. He loomed over the bed, lifting the thing in his hand, and I saw it was a syringe. A white-hot rage filled me. Iron? Some other kind of poison?

  He stabbed down in a swift motion, burying the syringe in what would have been the sleeper’s neck. The resistance provided by the pillows must have felt all wrong, because in the next second, he hurled back the blankets, exposing the deception.

  That was my cue. I threw the knife across the room, but his reflexes were amazing. He sidestepped so quickly I barely saw him move—one minute he was by the bed, and the next he was halfway across the room, thrusting the syringe back into the pouch he wore at his belt and drawing a knife instead.

  That was fine. I still had another one, plus the advantage of being invisible. And I might not have Air magic at my disposal, but I could certainly manage to sneak across the soft grass of the floor without making any noise. I crept closer. The knife would be visible the moment it left my hand, so the closer the better.

  He raised a hand, and a stiff breeze sprang up from nowhere, making my short hair stream back from my face. So I was right—he was using Air magic. But he’d have to do better than that if he meant to discourage me.

  As if he’d read my mind, his hand darted out in a sweeping gesture, and I crouched reflexively. He had to have a fair idea where I was, even though he couldn’t see me, because he’d seen the direction from which the knife had come.

  Damp earth rose from the nearest garden bed at his gesture, then hurtled in my direction. His expression was intent, his gaze roaming all over the general area he’d targeted.

  Shit. I realised what he was doing in the same second he made his move. Most of the soil had fallen harmlessly to the floor—but some had clung to me, making me partially visible.

  He launched himself at me, knife arm extended, and I rolled aside, swinging one leg out and catching him right in the gut. The breath whooshed out of him as he landed. Try to Air magic your way out of that one, arsehole.

  But he wasn’t done—he was rolling to his feet at the same time as me, breathing in harsh rasps as his eyes roamed the darkness. We were half-in, half-out of the pavilion, and I snatched a rock from the nearest garden and hurled it behind us at a low angle. Hop
efully the bushes would shield where it had come from.

  As I’d hoped, his head whipped around at the sound of it landing, and I launched the second knife while he was distracted.

  His reflexes were good, I’d give him that—he must have caught the movement in his peripheral vision, because he started to turn. The knife caught him in the junction between shoulder and neck instead of in the jugular as I’d planned. But he still went down.

  Not for long, however.

  What did it take to stop this guy? He hurled his own knife in my direction, close enough that I felt the wind of its passage. Pretty bloody impressive, since I was largely invisible. A few bits of soil still clung to me, but in the dark—and at this distance—they weren’t making much of a difference. I bent for another rock.

  A shot rang out. The guy slumped backward, a neat hole right in the centre of his forehead, and Sage stepped out of the darkness under the trees.

  “Holy shit, Sage.” I snatched off my cloak of shadows and glared at her. “Is it really a good idea to run around firing guns when your friends are invisible? You could have killed me!”

  “Don’t be such a sook. I knew where you were.”

  I frowned at the cloak, its feathers crumpled in my fist. Surely, she couldn’t see through it? “How could you possibly know that?”

  “I can smell your magic. You’re giving off fumes like a kid hitting puberty.”

  My magic. It was so strange to think I actually had magic now. Not that it would do me any good here. The only things I knew how to do so far were create a ball of faelight and take on the appearance of someone else.

  But taking on this guy’s face would probably get me mowed down by Kyrrim, even if it might have been useful for sneaking up on his colleagues, if there were any others here. That possibility was now my biggest fear. Kyrrim hadn’t reappeared, despite the sound of the shot, which made me worry that he was busy somewhere else, fighting off the dead guy’s buddies.