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“No,” I say while striding around the pool’s rim toward my brother.

I feel Cove’s father observing as I squat beside Cerulean with the vial. My thumb pops the cork from the lip, my free hand snatches his chin, and I angle his head while tipping the elixir down his throat. The brew emits a citrus scent and is a gilded effervescent fluid—I know how it looks from memory, back when both of my mothers taught me the fundamentals.

Cerulean’s chest lurches, ingesting the remedy. He will need a few moments.

I flick the bottle into the water, which swallows it whole. At last, I drop beside my brother, dip my limbs into the whirlpool, and bow forward.

The scrutinizing gaze of Cove’s father reaches me from across the whirlpool. I cannot muster the fortitude to lift my head. It might be exhaustion, but I do not think so.

Despite the crashing waterfalls, every move he makes is a tsunami in my ears. His clothes shift. He’s reaching into his pocket, fishing for something. My ears pick up the man’s fingers stroking a wooden object—the key.

“For years, Cove had one like this at home,” the man reminiscences in a manner that suggests he is gazing at the apparatus. “She and her sisters would use it to free animals that had been poached for trade. Shortly before you took her, the original broke. Cove had been meaning to fix it.”

His tone is cultured yet aggressive, like an heirloom weapon. “I consider myself a civilized man. Likewise, I trust my daughters’ judgement. That said, it’s taking every ounce of will not to curse the day you were born and reconsider what I said about not being a killer. It all depends on how you answer me.”

Finally, I have the courage to draw my gaze toward his voice. “Ask me.”

“For a start, tell me what I want to hear most.”

“They are safe. They are near. They will be on their way.”

Relief gusts from his lungs. “Good. That means I can put away the knife. Next, you never obliged my initial request when we met.”

You had better tell me this isn’t how you greeted Cove.

I wince. He had spoken those words after I’d had my fingers strapped around his gullet.

The reply pours from me like the river. “It was the same. Also, I nearly blinded her.”

Water splatters the ground as the man rises like an alpha. “We were doing so well, lad,” he speaks through his teeth. “But if you’re hoping to make a good impression, you’re failing spectacularly.”

“Faeries cannot lie.”

“The Fables say your kind manipulate the truth.”

“I play mind games with my enemies, not my kin. That is not me.”

“Cove is the sweetest soul on this earth,” he feuds. “She trusts to a fault, tends to others before thinking of herself, and she’s determined to see good in all creatures. Where others see bloodthirsty beasts, she sees lost souls. It would be tempting for any Fae to take advantage of that.”

I blast to my feet, a growl snaking from my lips. “That is also not me.”

“Then who are you?”

“I am the one who loves your daughter.”

A slick voice carries through the enclave. “May I echo that sentiment?”

Like two waves colliding and then breaking apart, I feel our glowers smash into one another and then disintegrate. A brush of water alerts me to nearby activity—feathers twitching in the pool.

I spin toward that elegant tenor and fall to my knees. “Cerulean.”

My brother’s palm finds my jaw. “Elixir,” he murmurs.

That is all I need. No other words.

His wings float limply atop the surface, yet I hear the water simmering around him, the flux illustrating his position. He’s reclining, too weary to accomplish his usual sideways slouch. But his chin is perched high as his head swings toward the mortal across from us.

“You look like she’d said you would,” Cerulean says.