Page 15

He smirks. “As if you didn’t want him too. It was so obvious.”

I think about it now, how my fear of Ruskin mingled with want, until it suffocated the former, taking me over completely. Despite my anxiety and exhaustion, my body warms at the thought.

“And now I know why,” Destan continues. “Naminai.” He blinks, looking shocked all over again at the thought. “Amazing. When did you know?”

“When I went home, I found out my true name from a changeling in Styrland who did the ceremony for my mom when I was a baby. That’s when I started to suspect, because there was obviously a connection between mine and his.”

“And then you started probing me for information,” he says. “So sneaky.”

“I wanted to be sure, and you didn’t think I could possibly be asking for myself.”

“Not exactly my fault. A human with a true name is about as rare as one with magic,” he says, giving me a knowing look. “When were you sure?”

“On the way to Unseelie.” I swallow at the memory. It’s taken on a new edge now I’m the only one who remembers it. “Ruskin accidentally channeled his magic to me, but he didn’t realize it. I told him what I suspected about our true name matching once we got to the Unseelie Court, but I didn’t accept the bond or tell him my true name until Evanthe’s attack.”

Destan digests this, staring at the gate ahead of us. “A lot makes sense to me now. I was just helping things along, but it was like you two were being pulled to each other—like planets stuck in orbit.”

I stare at him. It’s just coincidence that he would use that analogy, but he’s referencing our true names without realizing it. Planets in orbit. The sun and the moon. I suppose we were like that. The question is, will that pull be enough to bring us together again?

There’s movement by the gate and we both scramble up as Ruskin emerges, leading what looks like a working horse and a pony.

“The best I could find on short notice,” he says when we reach him, handing the reins over. “And here.” He passes me a bag too, our hands brushing, and it’s like a spark has passed between us, my eyes flying to his. “As a human, I imagine you’re in need of supplies,” he says.

I open the back and feel my empty stomach grumble with relief. It’s full of food from Styrland: bread, cheese, and fruit. He’d thought I might need it, even though I didn’t ask. That meant something, right? I don’t stand on ceremony, falling on the food ravenously. I tear into the bread, and then turn to the apple, licking the juice from my fingers after my first bite.

I look up and see him watching me, that same feral glint to his gaze as he lingers on my mouth and fingers. The bond between us jolts with a surge of energy.

I tear my gaze away, unable to handle him looking at me like that, when he keeps on speaking to me like a stranger.

“I’m guessing they didn’t cost much,” I say, looking at the pony, trying to shake off the moment. At least these horses aren’t as far off the ground as the Calasian.

“They didn’t cost me any money,” Ruskin says, like that should be obvious.

I gape at him. “You stole them?” I say, appalled. Most people in Styrland are barely scraping by. I’d hate to think what losing these will do to some poor farming family or ostler.

Ruskin is unmoved. “I made a deal,” he says. Which makes my heart sink all over again, because not so long ago he’d promised me he’d stopped striking those kinds of bargains.

“A fair one, I hope.”

His eyes glint dangerously. “Fair enough.”

The despair continues to creep up on me as we ready the horses and set off. What seems “fair” to this Ruskin, someone who doesn’t have any understanding of my kind, who hasn’t spent two hundred years getting to know them?

I realize, looking forward, that it’s not the Unseelie Court that truly has me worried. I can’t even bring myself to focus too much on the dark shadow that Evanthe represents at this moment. I’m too caught up in knots of guilt and fear. Earlier today, I was worried Ruskin might be dead. Now I have him back, and all I can wonder is if that’s really the case. Because if he can’t remember us, or who he was…

Then who really came back from Interra with me?

Chapter 5

We double back on our route at Ruskin’s insistence. He doesn’t seem to remember specific people or events, but he knows the land. I can see it in the way he studies the horizon and the trees as we pass. Deeper, more instinctual knowledge has stuck with him, even without a memory of its source. I try not to feel stung that he knows the path ahead of us better than he knows my name.

Destan frowns when he realizes that the course Ruskin has plotted will take us through the Seelie borderlands and onto the mountain path. “But what about the Wild Hunt?” he asks, then elaborates when he sees Ruskin’s quirked eyebrow. “Half a dozen armed Seelie High Fae with a taste for blood. They’re rabidly loyal to Evanthe and were kind enough to give me this—” he points to his injured arm, “—before we spent considerable efforts losing them on that trail.”

“He’s right,” I say. “We don’t want to have gone through all that just to run into them again.”

But Ruskin just grins at us, exposing pointed teeth. I can’t deny that the sight of that smug expression does unreasonable things to me. I think he’s gotten into his stride since he came back with the horses. Certainly, he seems more relaxed, and he seems to be acclimatizing to this world he only recognizes parts of.

“We shouldn’t worry about this Hunt. We’re still in the borderlands and until we cross back over the Unseelie border, I have full access to my High King power. Surely you don’t think six measly lords and ladies present a real threat to their own monarch?”