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“You’re cold,” Alastair noted.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie.”

The Mist King strode back into the cave’s little room, cloak flaring behind him like a dark pair of wings. His face looked troubled. “I found some more evidence of travelers deeper in the cave.”

Alastair inclined his head toward me. “Tessa’s cold.”

“I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth. Clamping them together was the only way to stop my teeth from chattering. “So, what’s the problem with more evidence of travelers?”

“It looks like they’re trekking into the mountain itself instead of up and around it.” The Mist King frowned when he spotted my cloth-covered hands. “Stop lying to us. We can scent it.”

Suddenly, he whipped off his cloak and draped it across my shoulders. The intoxicating scent of mist and snow enveloped me. My mouth popped open to argue. I didn’t want his cloak anywhere near me. For one, it had touched him. And two, well, it hadtouched him.

But for the love of light, it was warm. And it smelled so fucking good. Like him.

“I don’t want this,” I said with a scowl.

“Don’t be so difficult,” he shot back. “You’re freezing.”

“I’d rather freeze than wear a stupid cloak that belongs to the Mist King.” I threw it off my shoulders.

Anger flashed through his eyes. He hovered over me, pure fury tensing every muscle in his jaw. I waited for it, what I knew came next. He tried to act like he was different than Oberon, but they were exactly the same. Eventually, he would snap and show the truth of his soul. He’d hit me. Or he’d make Alastair do it.

“Do not call me that,” he said, every word punctuated by irritation.

“Why not?” I lifted my chin. “That’s who you are, isn’t it?”

“Only my enemies call me that.”

“And isn’t that what we are?” I whispered back. “Don’t try to pretend we’re allies just because we share a common interest—seeing King Oberon dead.”

“I’d say that does make us allies,” Alastair cut in.

“Stay out of it,” the Mist King and I both shouted in unison.

Surprise flickered through the king’s eyes, and a slight smile tickled his lips. He started to speak, but a sudden thunder stopped whatever he’d meant to say.

The boulder rolled away from the cave’s opening. Niamh and Toryn darted toward us, eyes wild, faces drenched in sweat.

The mists swirled inside.

“We need backup!” Niamh shouted. “We’ve got eight pookas.”

Pookas?

I sucked in a sharp breath and stood, instinctively reaching for my wooden dagger. I didn’t know what pookas were, but by the flash of alarm on the Mist King’s face, I knew I didn’t want to find out.

“Get behind me,” he barked, drawing the sword from the sheath at his back. Power rumbled in the cave. “Don’t try anything stupid.”

I scowled as he edged in front of me, blocking my body from anything that might shoot in from outside the cave. “What makes you so sure I’d try something stupid?”

“I’ve spent more than five minutes in your presence,” he threw over his shoulder. “That was enough.”

Heart pounding, I glared at his back, fully encased in the smooth leather of his armor. Still, I could see the strength of his muscles ripple as he raised his weapon, bracing for the impending attack.

Alastair made a move to shove the boulder back into place, but it was too late.