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Getting Scarlet in, I shut the door behind us, setting us in complete darkness. It was still cold, but it was ten times better than outside.

“Szar.” I tripped over something, stumbling to regain my footing.

“Stay there.” Scarlet’s voice slinked through the darkness, my ears picking up her confident footsteps, moving easily through the room. I heard a crank of something before a flash of light flinched me back. My eyes adjusted, seeing Scarlet by a side table, an ancient lantern blazing in her hand.

“You can see that well in the dark?” It came out more as an accusation than a question, the curiosity of wanting to know how she was overtaking my rule to not care.

She shrugged a shoulder, placing the lantern down onto the table, giving off enough glow to move around the room, once again not answering my question.

My hands rolled up in balls as I descended deeper into the room. Asking a fae what they were was an intimate question. Similar to asking a stranger how many sex partners they’ve had. Some answered easily, and some found it offensive. In the Otherworld, when it still existed, secrets were power, especially when the humans didn’t know about us. They were traded, bought, and killed for. Many fae still lived by this code, though with each new generation, the old ways were starting to die out now that Earth and Otherworld were one.

“Not going to tell me?” I said nonchalantly, checking out the room and pocketing a curved knife on the workbench.

“Tell you what?” Her response was as blasé as mine, her fingers trailing over the wall of hay rakes and pitchforks.

My jaw worked. I never lost my patience more than I had with her. “We’re gonna play this game?”

She peered over her shoulder, reading me before she looked away. “It’s complicated.”

Growling, I rubbed at my head, feeling a scream building. “You are such a pain in my ass.”

“And you aren’t in mine?”

“In yours?” I scoffed. “You’re the one who followed me. I’ve been trying to get rid of you since Vienna.” My voice rose, my arms going out as I marched up to her. “And complicated is who you are, but notwhatyou are. That should be pretty cut and dry.”

Her head tilted, her attention going past me.

“I know you’re some kind of shifter.”

“Shh.” Her head slanted more, listening for something.

I went still. “What?”

“I thought I heard something,” she whispered, concentrating on noises outside.

I heard nothing at all except the creaking of the ancient barn and the patter of snow on the roof. Ten seconds went by, the sound of my pulse striking the time like a bell, but nothing broke in to get us.

“It’s probably nothing. Just the barn making noises.” She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment.

Her focus off me, I became very aware of how close she was. Her features were stunning, but I could see the pain, exhaustion, the bruises still marking her face, wanting so badly to heal, but unable to.

“You need to rest,” I mumbled, her lashes popping back up. “There’s some straw over there you can use as a bed.” I flicked my chin behind her. Too tired to fight me, she shuffled over, lowering into the moldy cushion with a groan. Following her, I took off my backpack, squatting in front of her, helpless as she held onto her ribs, blinking back the tears. “You should eat something.” I rustled through the pack, pulling out a stale granola bar.

To a tree fairy who ate only organic and grew his own veggies and herbs, this shit was garbage, though it was the only thing that could really survive on the road like this.

“I’m not hungry.” She turned away from my offer, her nose flaring with nausea.

“I don’t care. You need to—”

The door to the barn slammed open with a loud bang, jerking me up and around.

“Nu va mi?ca?i!” Don’t move!Behind the rifle pointed at us, a small, dark-haired man stood in the doorway.“O sa te omor!” I will kill you!

“It’s okay.” I spoke in his native tongue, trying to soothe him, standing in front of Scarlet. The fact she didn’t get up told me she was far worse off than I thought. “We’re just here for shelter.”

“Don’t take me for a fool,” he seethed in English, easily picking up that we weren’t from here. I could feel a little magic coming off him, but it so insignificant he was most likely a half-breed. “You don’t think I know who you are?”

My muscles locked up, panic curling through me. He knew who I was? Was my picture distributed so widely through Romania that I didn’t even have a chance of getting close to Bucharest?