Spark(28)

“Are you sure?” he asked, keeping his head bent so he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
The goblin’s claws dug into his skin, so hard Aran felt the blood rise.
“You will address the queen as befits her power and title, mortal,” the creature hissed. “You are nothing but dirt beneath her feet.”
“Calm yourself, Codcadden,” the queen said. “Our guest knows little of our ways, or our realm. He will learn.”
There was threat and promise in those words, and Aran shivered. He yanked his arm out of Codcadden’s grasp, gritting his teeth as the goblin’s claws left streaks of blood on his skin.
A man stepped out from behind the throne, and Aran felt his eyes widen. Not only did the guy look human—in marked contrast to all the other creatures in the clearing—he had a battered guitar slung across his back. His hair was brown, shot through with silver, and he regarded Aran for a long moment, his gaze both wise and weary.
“My lady,” the man said, turning to the queen. “I beg leave to counsel and guide this mortal in the ways of the Dark Court.”
The queen leaned forward, her dress swirling about her like inky mist. “Betray me not, Bard Thomas. You yet remain overly fond of the human world.”
“I am true to you, my queen.” The man, Thomas, bowed low. “Did I not prove my worth with the stolen child?”
Aran risked a glance at the queen’s face. Her eyes were narrowed and glittering.
“Do not let this human wreak such havoc upon our court as the child did,” she said. “Truly I might have reconsidered, had I known the mischief that boy could cause.”
Thomas’s mouth twitched, as though he held back a smile. Aran made another quick surveillance of the court from beneath his lowered lids. No one else looked even remotely human, so whoever this crazy boy had been, he was gone.
Gone where was another question entirely, and one Aran wasn’t ready to think about.
“I shall stand responsible for this boy,” Thomas said.
“I’m not a child,” Aran said, then shut up when the man sent him a sharp look.
“Very well,” the queen said. “I give him into your keeping, Bard Thomas. For now. Bring him before me again on the morrow.”
“I shall, my lady.”
Thomas swept her an elaborate bow, complete with a cloak flourish that should have looked foolish, but instead conveyed a high degree of respect. He stepped over to where Aran knelt, never quite turning his back to the queen, and held out a hand.
“I’m Thomas,” he said.
“I gathered that.” Aran looked at the man’s outstretched hand. He really wanted to refuse any help, but his head was still spinning.
“Come,” Thomas said. “It is best not to linger in the queen’s sight, once your business with her has concluded.”
“Right.”
Aran took Thomas’s hand. It was warm, his grasp surprisingly firm as he drew Aran to his feet. The scratches on Aran’s arm stung, and he glanced down at the bare skin, surprised to see he still had his tablet tucked under his arm. No guarantee it worked here, though. Wherever here was.#p#分页标题#e#
“You may share my quarters, for now.” Thomas let go of his hand, then turned and led him away from the clearing into the shelter of the trees.
“Somehow, I don’t think you have a nice two-story house back in the woods,” Aran said.
He glanced around at the moon-silvered forest. The violet flicker of a weird bonfire lit the edges of the clearing, and figures capered there. After a moment of watching the creatures moving on oddly jointed limbs, the flapping of gossamer wings, the waving of too-long fingers, he looked away. He wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with this.
“Not quite a house, no.” Thomas’s voice held a touch of dry humor. “Yet it is a home all the same.”
They followed a twisty path a short distance, to a pole with a single, ornate lantern suspended on it. The interior was lit with dancing balls of light. When Aran squinted, he could make out tiny, winged figures inside each glow. They fluttered back and forth, pressing their hands and faces to the sides of the lantern, their mouths open in silent screams. Trapped.
His throat closed, and for a sick moment he couldn’t breathe.
“Easy.” Thomas was beside him, one hand on his shoulder. “Do not dwell overmuch on the sights here. The Dark Realm is what it is—and not meant for mortals.”
Aran swallowed hard. Once. Twice.
“But you live here, and you’re mortal.” He forced the words out, pretending normalcy despite the fear burning in his lungs.
A sad, tired smile crossed Thomas’s lips. “I was mortal, once. Now I belong fully to the realm.”