Perhaps he would lie. Perhaps he wouldn’t about some things. I was getting better at sorting through what people told me. Learning to hear the truth in their lies and the lies in their truth.
“Have you really been alive for eighty-two thousand years?”
“Longer. That was merely the last time I used glamour to seduce a woman. Sit and we will talk.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I perched stiffly on the edge of the chaise.
“Relax, MacKayla. Enjoy the sun. It may be your last chance to see it for some time.”
I wondered what he meant by that. Did he consider himself a weather prognosticator? Or could he actually control it, make it rain? Against my better judgment, I stretched out my legs and lay back. I stared at the sapphire sea, watched graceful alabaster birds pluck fish from the waves. “So, how old are you?”
“That,” he said, “is anyone’s guess. In this incarnation, I have lived one hundred and forty-two thousand years. Are you aware of our incarnations?”
“You drink from the cauldron.”
He nodded.
How long, I wondered, did it take to go mad? My short twenty-two years were sorely testing me. It seemed forgetting might be a comfort. I considered the ramifications of divesting memory, and realized why a Fae might put it off. If he’d spent fifty or a hundred thousand years watching, learning, building alliances, making enemies, the moment he divested memory he would no longer even know who those enemies were.
But they would know who he was.
I wondered if any Fae had ever been forced to drink by others of their race, to rescue them from the vast, desolate steppes of insanity. Or perhaps for more nefarious reasons.
I wondered, considering V’lane had known exactly where I was and what I’d been doing, if he’d been responsible for the massacre at the Welshman’s estate.
“Did you steal the amulet?”
He laughed. “Ah, so that was what you were after. I wondered. It amplifies the will, MacKayla.”
“Your point?”
“I have no use for it. My will needs no amplifying. My will shapes worlds. The amulet was fashioned for one like you with no will of which to speak.”
“Just because we can’t manipulate reality with our thoughts doesn’t mean we don’t have will. Maybe we do shape reality, just on a different scale, and you don’t see it.”
“Perhaps. The queen suspects such might be the case.”
“She does?”
“That is why she sent me to help you, so that you may help us, and together we may ensure the survival of both our races. Have you learned anything about the Sinsar Dubh?”
I thought about that a moment. Should I tell him? What should I tell him? Perhaps I could use it as leverage. “Yes.”
The palm trees stopped swaying, the waves froze, the birds halted mid-dive. Despite the sun, I shivered. “Would you please start the world again?” It was creepy frozen. Things moved once more.
“What have you learned?”
“Did you know my sister?”
“No.”
“How could that be? You knew about me.”
“We learned of you because we were watching Barrons. Your sister, who we’ve since become aware of, did not know Barrons. Their paths never crossed, ergo nor did ours. Now, tell me of the Sinsar Dubh.”
“Why were you watching Barrons?”
“Barrons needs watching. The book, MacKayla.”
I wasn’t done yet. The book was big information, surely worth more of an exchange. “Do you know the Lord Master?”
“Who?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Who is this Lord Master?”
“He’s the one bringing the Unseelie through. He’s their leader.”
V’lane looked astonished. No more so than I felt. He and Barrons both knew so much yet were missing chunks of essential information. They were so smart in some ways, and so blind in others.
“Is he Fae?” he demanded.
“No.”
He looked incredulous. “How can that be? A Fae would not follow a human.”
I hadn’t said he was human. He was something more than that. But the way V’lane had just sneered the word human—as if a life-form just couldn’t get any lower—pissed me off so I didn’t bother correcting him. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be all-knowing.”
“Omnipotent not omniscient. We are frequently blinded by how much we see.”
“That’s absurd. How can you be blinded by vision?”