Page 19

“So…how does it work when the sun hits things that you share? Like the court itself?” She realized she had Book under her arm. She really needed to figure out how to get a carrying strap for that stupid thing. It was getting really annoying having to carry it around everywhere.

“To an outside onlooker, or one who would approach, it transforms. But you could think of it as—ah—we occupy both spaces at once?” Lysander scratched the back of his neck, clearly struggling to come up with the words for it. “Both the Din’Glai and the Din’Lae exist together and separate.”

“That sounds obnoxious.”

“It is.” Lysander laughed. “And it didn’t used to be this way.”

“Really?”

“Long ago, when the brothers Dagda and Bres ruled, the halves were at peace, and we existed as one. All was in balance. But when Dagda, the Seelie King, murdered King Bres, his Unseelie brother, at a banquet in his honor…all that changed forever.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, staring up at the boughs of the trees overhead. “And the war has not ended since.”

“Doesn’t seem like Valroy wants it to.”

“No, he doesn’t.” His smile turned sad. “Though I wonder sometimes if he was not the Morrigan’s bitter resentment toward her children taking shape.”

Eyeing him curiously, she furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Valroy seeks to destroy the Seelie. Raze the Earth to ashes. If he were successful, it would destroy Tir n’Aill and her children.

I wonder if she did not breed with the demon out of spite, hoping she would create a beast able to destroy us all.

” He shrugged. “But I am reading tea leaves, trying to predict the will of the goddess herself. That is the pastime of fools.”

“Or people with a lot of time on their hands.” She nudged him with her elbow.

With a cheeky smile, he nudged her back with his own. “And that is something we immortals do have in spades, isn’t it?”

“Apparently. Though I’ve never felt more panicked in my life.” Letting out a puff of air, she shook her head. “Can I get a vacation from all this? For like—a month? Just tell everybody to chill and leave me alone for thirty days. That’ll be cool, right?”

Lysander laughed, revealing his pointed fangs. They weren’t nearly as dangerous as Serrik’s, but they were still a reminder of his inhumanity. Not like his literal cat tail wasn’t doing wonders for that too. “I’ll petition the court and see what I can do.”

“Perfect.”

There was a long pause in their conversation for a moment. “What I don’t get is, I don’t feel different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have this—” She lifted her arm with the tattoo. “But I don’t feel different. I suppose I could blame my overall calmness and a few other things on it, but it’s not like I’m hearing voices. Or anything else.”

“Is that not a good thing?” Lysander frowned. “Do you want to be experiencing more violent changes?”

“No. Absolutely not. But I expected to be.” She paused. “Shouldn’t I be? The most alarming changes I’m feeling are—” She broke off. Her attraction to Serrik.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Personal.”

Lysander nudged her arm. “You can’t tease me like that, Ava. That is brutally unfair.”

Her cheeks went warm. Damn it, she was blushing. Looking away, she let out a long sigh. “A physical attraction to Serrik.”

“Aah, well. That could be the work of the entity inside of you. Or it could simply be that he is attractive and you clearly have extremely poor taste in men.” He laughed. “Especially seeing as you have such a better choice right here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She tried not to smile. “You get what I’m saying though, right? I expected to be some sort of black-eyed monster or having nightmares, or…”

“There are changes, Ava. Your power is increasing. It is simply hard for you to see it, perhaps.” Lysander’s tone turned serious. “But it is there. I wonder if the entity is simply being respectful of your sentience.”

That would be nice. But Lysander’s comment that she couldn’t see the change worried her. A lot. “What am I not seeing? ”

“Ah. We’re here.” Lysander gestured to a break in the forest.

“Lysander—”

“Forgive me, Ava.” He shook his head. “It is not my secret to tell.”

They emerged from the dense foliage into an area that was not quite a clearing, but a section of the forest that was free of overgrowth, but still bathed in more dappled and muted sunlight.

Unlike the carefully maintained spaces nearer the palace, this place felt wild and ancient.

Flowers grew in random patterns, competing for space with towering ferns and moss-covered stones.

At the center of the clearing stood two fae, deep in conversation.

One of them was unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

They were made entirely from…glass. A billion shards of broken glass, moving in concert with each other, all reflecting the light from around the creature like a diamond, catching pieces of flickering color of every type.

They were beautiful, hypnotic, and unearthly.

The other was a tall, towering figure who made her stop immediately in her tracks.

He had long, black hair tied at the base of his neck in a red ribbon, and a black goatee that decorated his broad, but handsome features.

He was wearing a black, Victorian-style oilskin overcoat that reached down to his thighs.

But that wasn’t why she had pulled up short.

It was his black goat’s legs from the waist down and swishing tail behind him that had given her pause. That and the fact that he really… really looked like Rig.

The fae she’d dropped a train on, back in the Web.

Just taller, and with black hair touched by grey at the temples.

But there had to be more than two goat-legged Unseelie fae in the world, right? Had to be. Those old oil paintings were full of them. Absolutely full of them. It was a coincidence. A total coincidence.

Lysander smiled at her reassuringly and gently waved her forward. And it was too late anyway, because the tall, goat-like fae had already seen her.

He smiled and bowed his head to her. He had two dark horns that curled up and away from his head.

An image ran through her head of him appearing in the dark mist, getting a witch to sign their name in a book.

If there was anybody in the world that was going to be mistaken for the devil or Black Bart, it was going to be this guy.

“Ah, Lysander.” The goat-fae had a deep, rumbling voice. “This must be the Weaver we’ve heard so much about.”

“Tis.” Lysander’s hand settled at the small of Ava’s back, a gesture that felt oddly protective, if a bit too personal. “Ava, may I present Lord Bayodan. And this is Cruinn, his mate.”

No titles. Also interesting.

“A pleasure to meet you both. You can call me Ava.”

“The pleasure and honor is ours,” Cruinn replied. Their voice was as smooth as silk. They smiled, which was a bit hard to make out through how much they glittered with all the reflections. “Welcome to Tir n’Aill—though I fear you come here unwillingly, like so many of your kind do.”

“Yeah. Well.” She shrugged. “Spilled milk I guess.”

“I have always wondered about the Web.” Cruinn hummed. “I was almost sent there.” They moved closer to Bayodan, hugging the goat fae’s arm. “Valroy was merciful and chose only to shatter me into a million pieces. It sent me mad for quite some time. I’m afraid I’m still not quite whole.”

“That was the better option?” She couldn’t stop herself from blurting out the words.

“Oh, yes.” Cruinn frowned. “No one emerges from the Web, dear Ava. You are the first to be trapped there and return…”

“I’m not the only one.” Oh, man. She was feeling bitter today. “Nos and Ibin. Bitty.”

“Yes. Well. I did say the first.” Cruinn chuckled, the sound like tinkling bells. “Not the last.”

That was fair. “Sorry. I’m grumpy, I haven’t had coffee, and I’m running on little sleep. Everything’s a bit much right now.”

“I have heard much of your exploits within the Web from our King Valroy.” Bayodan’s eyes—which were a deep, bloody crimson— were fixed upon her. “And of the power that now seeks to overrun you. But I must ask you a question, before we continue.”

Uh oh.

Oh no.

“Yeah?” She tightened her grip on Book.

One train, coming up…

“I have heard tell that you ran afoul of a young Unseelie fae by the name of Rig.” Bayodan lifted his chin slightly. “I entreat you to tell me what transpired betwixt you.”

Ahh, shitballs. “I—I mean—I didn’t—he started it?—”

Lysander's hand pressed more firmly against Ava's back. “Lord Bayodan, with all due respect, this is hardly the time or place?—”

“I beg to differ, friend.” Bayodan walked up to her slowly, and it was only when he was two feet away from her that she appreciated how extremely tall he was.

And that he only had one arm. One of the sleeves of his coat was pinned up.

She had been so distracted by the rest of him, she hadn’t noticed it at first.

He smelled like damp earth. And there was a richness of something else there as well that she couldn’t identify at first.

Blood.

The smell of fresh blood.

Those crimson eyes were emotionless, unreadable, when he spoke.

“Pray tell, Weaver…what happened to my son?”