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“You sure you want to do this?” Malaki says, breaking me from my reverie.

I incline my head, still scowling. This is the one thing I am sure of these days.

He sighs.

“You don’t have to join me,” I say.

Malaki lowers his voice. “Because I’m going to let you take on the king by yourself.”

I glance over at him. His loyalty can’t be bought, yet somehow I’ve earned it.

My attention drifts away from Malaki when I hear an auctioneer calling out numbers. Ahead of us, a crowd’s gathered. Beyond them, standing on a podium, are nearly a dozen chained humans.

I come to a halt at the sight of them. Normally I do something about this. On good days, I simply let my darkness free the slaves’ chains. On bad days … the slaveholders pay with their lives.

“Eurion,” Malaki warns, using my fake name, “if you do something now, we’re going to have to leave.”

Freeing slavesdoesdraw attention …

I work my jaw and reluctantly I continue up the street. It burns me deep to walk away from the slaves.

Can’t save them all.

“We don’t have to do this today,” Malaki says. “You could free those slaves, flee this place, and travel the realms to look for her.” He doesn’t need to clarify who he’s referring to.

My mortal mate.

“I don’t want to fall in love,” I say.

At least, not withher. A human.

And that’s my shame. I hate how fairies treat humans, but I don’t want one for my own.

Malaki gives me a disbelieving look. “She’s waiting for you somewhere out there. If you don’t search for her, you might never meet her.”

That would be for the best.

“When did you become a romantic sot?” I ask, eyeing a cluster of fae women and pretending like I don’t give two shits about this conversation.

He shakes his head at me. “You’re a fucking idiot. You have amate—”

“Ahumanone.”

There. I said it. My conscience feels heavier—not lighter—for it.

Malaki draws back. “I thought you of all people wouldn’t care about that.”

“You thought wrong.” Freeing slaves and loving them are two very different things.

He’s still staring at me, and I feel the judgment in his look. “You know it’s not a big deal,” he says. “Plenty of fae used to take humans for husbands and wives back in the old days.”

But these aren’t the old days.

“That’s easy for you to say that when you don’t have to be with one.”

That shuts him up.

I was high and mighty once too—saving slaves from serving terrible masters. I felt quite pleased with myself for my efforts. I was a liberator, a savior. And then I heard that damn prophecy, and it got a bit too personal. It’s fine to save slaves as long as you keep them at arm’s length. But to bed one—to bematedto one …