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“Is that really…how I died?” Bryce asked after several moments had passed, along with his coughing fit. His voice cracked as he spoke the last word, a chill running through his blood. A haunting sting sliced across his neck at the same time the image of his murderer pulling his blade across his throat flashed in his head. “No.”

“You and Rihanna bonded earlier that morn. She had always feared the townsfolk might retaliate against you, not understanding her choice lay in understanding she could belong to no other. She loved you with all of her heart and soul.” Shaye lifted the tea leaves from his mug and placed the mesh on the small dish, catching his gaze. “She loves youstill. Her heart is fragile. A crystalline organ pieced together with care after your murder. Aye, Bryce. A jealous mob murdered you on your way into town that eve. Merchants returned your body to your cabin. I arrived too late to intervene, and could do naught other than comfort my sister as her world shattered. The bond between soul mates? The death of one often leads to the death of the other. Living alone without one’sanam caracan prove worse than leaving the pain behind in search of peace through death. With the death of one, your soul is split in two, torn in half, as is the life essence and magic that we, as Fae, possess. We refused to allow her to give up. It took us many decades to get her to where she is now, but she remains weak. Delicate.”

He lifted the mug to his mouth and paused, watching Bryce over the rim.

“I speak of this now, Bryce, so you understand the full extent of your actions this eve. ’Tis not a visit to a woman you feel a connection with. ’Tis a visit that has brought the past into the present, welded two souls back together, and the consequences of turning your back on my sister would be dire.”

A sudden urge to abandon his tea, the man, and the kitchen to seek out Rihanna and comfort her until she shed not a single tear more surged through him. If he didn’t feel like Shaye’s gaze alone shackled him to his seat, he’d be running up the stairs. Unfortunately, whatever power the Fae man possessed kept his ass securely attached to the wooden seat.

“If all you say is true, how the hell could I turn my back on her?”

“Men have turned their backs on women for less.”

Bryce snorted. “Then you obviously don’t know me well.”

“What of your betrothed?”

Bryce opened his mouth to retort, but closed it just as fast. He stared at Shaye as the man sipped his tea, sharp eyes picking him apart over the rim of his mug.

“See?” Shaye lowered his mug to the table and reclined in his chair. “You turned your back on your betrothed for a woman you suspect plays a larger role in your life. Albeit, you’re correct, but I believe I’ve clarified my point. Your present life is far different than it was at the turn of the twentieth century. The Mikhail she’s been grieving resides inside you, but you are Bryce, not Mikhail. Your actions today will be different than they were a century ago. Relationships are not taken as seriously in the modern world and bonds are not as cherished as they once were.”

“You’re playing word games with me.”

Shaye chuckled and shook his head. “Nay, Bryce. I simply wish for you to understand what your rebirth has caused Rihanna before you resign yourself to a dream. Although you have an eternal bond, you have yet to commit yourself to her in this present life. If I were to guess, ’tis why you suffered the reaction you did. Life forces clawing for each other, but a barrier remains caused by rebirth.”

“I’m truly a reincarnation of Mikhail.” Bryce’s mind whirled at the prospect. A man of science, the only fantasy he held to was that of his dreams. The idea that Rihanna existed. She was his secret hope, one he never disclosed until the other night. To Jesse. And his farfetched hope paid off.

“I hold no doubt. You resemble Mikhail down to your expressions. There’s an essence about you that is eerily familiar, one I encountered many times years ago.” After a thoughtful silence, Shaye lifted his mug and motioned to Bryce’s. “Drink. Then I suggest you check on my sister. She’ll find more comfort in you now than she will in me.”

13

’Twas three eves since she’d received the note, and not a word. Not a call. Not a sound.

Silence, other than the crackle of strong-scented candles, filled the small apartment.

Apartment.

Every morn, she scowled at her poor living conditions. Currency bought her small comforts, but naught compared to what she once enjoyed. The grandeur of Faery could not be matched by mortals on any level. Even what those of extreme wealth owned paled in comparison to her old home.

Never in her centuries of life could she explain these strange tremors she suffered. The…tightness that grew thicker around her chest. This mortal body and these mortal restraints pushed her to the edge of calm. Some eves, she sought a means of releasing these, these…feelings, and often ended up finding comfort in cheap wine.

She snickered at the thought.

“Wine.”

Her Seelie blood could handle wine and liquor, not that she cared to indulge often. She had never suffered the effectsof drinking too much. Seelie drank for enjoyment and flavor, not for the reasons mortals did.

Alas, her first glass of wine as a mortal left her dizzy and weak and warm all over. She giggled too much, spilled words off a heavy tongue, but liked the way it helped her forget. If she had to suffer this despicable realm with all these mortal limitations, she’d do so with the aid of a numbing agent.

She winced when she twisted her fingers together too tight, unlocking the weave and shaking out her hands. Goddess, mortality was unbearable! Wine could help, she supposed. After all, what would come of this eve?

Deciding to ease the edge of this brutal punishment, she headed to the kitchen—Goddess, she was Seelie royalty reduced tocookingher own meals!—chose a bottle of red wine and the corkscrew—

A gust of wind erupted within the apartment. The candles flickered and went out, leaving trails of smoke silhouetted against the dim white glow of the street lamps beyond the windows.

“Three eves I’ve waited. Who are you?” Daeanna called into the darkness. Her mortal heart pounded wildly, fingers tightening around the corkscrew.

“’Tis I, Princess.”