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“You’re such a fucking romantic, you know that?”

Another whisper of a smile that lasted as long as smoke from a candle. “Romance is another human construct I have little use for.”

“Says the guy who just called our night together ‘making love.’” Ava rolled her eyes.

“A courtesy to your sensibilities.”

“Uh-huh.”

Silence fell between them again, once more loaded with tension. He worked on the bracelet as she stood there and watched him, seeming content to just let it all hang in the air .

She couldn’t take it, however. “Okay, fine, I give up. What the fuck are you doing?”

His hand stilled. “A tool. My own protection, of sorts.”

“For what?”

Another long hesitation before he answered. “For you, if you accept it.”

Paranoia flared up in her immediately, and she took a step back from the table. “What’s the catch? What’s it going to do to me?”

“Must there always be a cost?”

“With you?” She laughed. “Yeah.”

For a moment, something like hurt flashed in his eyes. It was so quick that she might have imagined it. “Your caution is warranted. But in this instance, it is unnecessary, I assure you.”

He lifted the bracelet, and Ava could now see its completed form—a beautifully intricate piece of art, all in gold and green jewels in shades from deep forest green to pale jade. It was only a half inch at its thickest, and so thin in others that it looked like it might snap.

“What does it do?” She couldn’t hide her curiosity.

“It shall keep your tattoo from spreading.” He placed it down on the table closer to her.

She stared at it, disbelief warring with hope in equal measure. “You’re offering to help me contain the Web? Why? That goes exactly opposite of everything you want.”

“No, Ava.” Something complex passed over his features. Frustration, or, perhaps, resignation. “What I want has become…less straightforward than it once was.”

“Meaning what?”

He turned his back to her, pacing away from the table, clasping his hands behind his back. “You are seeking alliances from the wrong sources. You feel trapped. You are grasping at straws.”

“Ah. Right. Great. This is about control.” Just when she thought he was going to do something nice. “You’re worried I’ll become too powerful without you there to control me.”

“I’m worried that you will cease to be you without my presence to guide you,” he corrected, something almost fierce in his tone.

She wished she could see his face—and she wondered if that weren’t the reason he had turned around.

“In your heightened state of panic, others will corrupt you, and it will be regrettable.”

Regrettable.

“Like I said. You’re such a fuckin’ romantic, Serrik.”

“You remaining yourself serves my motives. Therefore, you must remain calm through this transition.”

“Yeah. Sure. Right.” She ran her hands through her hair, staring at the bracelet. “Why should I trust this? How do I know it won’t backfire and just bind me to you more tightly?”

“You do not. That is the nature of trust—it cannot be proven, only given or withheld.”

“Not helping.”

“I do not deal in reassurances.” He turned to face her again.

“But consider this. I am sure that you have received offers of assistance. From whom, I do not know, as I cannot see into the matters of the court and Tir n’Aill.

Such offers of assistance place you at risk of being manipulated by outside forces that are at odds to my needs.

It is of great benefit to me to ensure that you stay free of their machinations. ”

“ Still not yours, Serrik.”

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her point without conceding it. “Nevertheless, I am invested in your wellbeing. Let us leave it at that.”

“I want to ask you another question, Serrik. And I want a real, honest answer.”

“If I can give you one, I will.”

“What happened between us. Our love making.” She emphasized it with some quotes in the air out of spite. “Did it mean anything to you? Did it mean anything at all, or was it just lust?”

“Did it mean anything to you, Ava?”

“Nope. I asked you first.”

He watched her, as still as a statue, and as silent as one, for what seemed like a solid minute before giving her a single, one-word answer. “Yes.”

“What did it mean to you?”

“I…would beg of you not to force me to say it. I do not wish to make matters even more stressful for you, Ava.” His voice was quiet. And through the coldness, there was a real sense of vulnerability. The realization made him seem suddenly more human—more real —than he ever had before.

It was like she was standing on the edge of the cliff. She could force him to continue. And he would. But she realized he was right—she didn’t want to know. Because what was on the other side of that jump wasn’t something she could come back from.

And it would change everything.

And it wasn’t something, when he asked her the question in return, that she knew how to answer. But one question still lingered in her mind. “Is it because of what happened between us?” she asked softly.

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “Or perhaps what happened between us was merely a symptom of something that had already occurred.”

Ava didn't know what to say to that. The idea that their connection might be something more than manipulation, more than the Web's influence, was both thrilling…and terrifying.

Clearing her throat, she quickly changed the subject. “This bracelet. What exactly will it do? How does it work?”

Serrik’s shoulders loosened. “It will keep the tattoo from spreading.” His fingers traced the intricate patterns on the gold.

“Nothing more, nothing less. I wish to see you adapt to this change.

To accept it without strife. My…goals no longer include watching you become a hollow vessel for the Web's power.

I do not wish to see you become a pawn in Valroy's schemes against the Earth and the Seelie Court.”

Ava studied him, trying to read between the lines of what he was saying. There was something different about him—a hesitancy that hadn't been there before, a carefulness in how he approached her that spoke of…what? Respect? Concern? Something deeper ?

“This is a self-serving gift, make no mistake,” Serrik continued, as if sensing her suspicion. "If you are more in control of your transformation, you become more valuable to my plans. If you are protected from Valroy's manipulations, you are less likely to be turned against me.”

“Again, points for honesty, I guess.”

His golden eyes held hers, and for a moment, Ava glimpsed something behind his careful mask—a profound weariness, a loneliness that echoed her own. How much of his coldness was nature, and how much armor built over centuries of isolation?

“All right,” she said finally. “I’ll accept your gift. But not because I trust you—but because I believe your motives. And because while I don’t not trust Bayodan and Cruinn and Lysander, I don’t trust them, either.”

Relief flashed briefly across his features. “A practical decision.”

He moved around the table, closing the distance between them for the first time since she'd arrived in the dream.

Up close, she could see subtle changes in him—a tension in his shoulders, a guardedness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

As if he too was uncertain where they stood after what had happened between them.

Gently, he took her wrist, his touch cool against her skin. The contact sent an unexpected jolt through her, a memory of his hands on other parts of her body, of the passion they'd shared in that very room.

Serrik's eyes darkened slightly, as if he could read her thoughts. “Hold still,” he murmured, his voice lower than before.

He wrapped the bracelet around her wrist, clasping it shut. As the gold settled against her skin, Ava felt a strange sensation—cool at first, then warm, as if the metal were melding with her, becoming part of her. She went rigid, nervous instantly at the sensation.

“That is the magic at work,” Serrik explained, his fingers lingering against her pulse point.

“I feel like I’m gonna break it.” It was so delicate.

“You will not. I assure you. ”

The emeralds in the bracelet began to glow softly, matching the rhythm of her heartbeat.

The symbols etched into the gold shifted, rearranging themselves in patterns that made her eyes hurt if she looked too directly at them.

But a moment later, it settled down, having rearranged itself to its liking.

“How do I use it?” she asked, her voice coming out huskier than she'd intended.

“It will work on its own. You needn’t worry.” He touched one of the necklaces he wore. “With you, as it is already within you, it cannot stop the transformation entirely, but I hope it will help you feel more comfortable with your sense of self as it progresses.”

Oh. “Wait…you made one of these for yourself?”

“Yes. Of course. I had to protect myself against the Web. I am its prisoner and its creator. If I did not, its whispering would have long since driven me quite mad.” His fingers traced the edge of the bracelet, sending shivers up her arm. “This magic is tied to me, to my power.”

“So. More ties to you.” She tried to not sound incredibly unamused.

“Yes,” Serrik admitted. “But hardly anything influential, comparatively. And you wear this of your own volition. Should you choose to remove it, you may. It is your choice. I cannot stop the progression of the Web from consuming you. But with this, the tattoo will stop its spread for a time. So that you may adjust to this new state of being.”

The distinction was subtle but significant.

Progress?

Ava couldn't help but laugh, the sound startling in the quiet library. “This thing is the closest to an apology I'm going to get, isn't it?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Perhaps.”

He was still holding her wrist, his thumb tracing small circles against her skin. The touch was innocent compared to what they'd shared before, yet somehow more intimate—more real .

“I should go,” Ava said, surprising herself with how reluctant she was. “I have a council meeting to attend soon.”

“Ah, yes. Fae politics.” Distaste dripped from the word. “Be cautious, Ava. The Moonlit Court is a nest of vipers, each with their own venom.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“I was meant to become one of those vipers,” he replied, something dark flashing in his eyes. “Before my imprisonment.”

The reminder of what he was—what he had been—sent a chill through Ava. It was easy to forget, in moments like this, the violence and vengeance that drove him.

“I’ll be careful,” she promised.

Serrik nodded, seemingly satisfied. Then, with a grace that still took her breath away, he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles in a gesture that was both formal and achingly tender.

“Until next time, little butterfly,” he murmured against her skin. “Mm. And do send Bayodan and Cruinn my regards. Tell my old tutor I have not forgotten his old lessons.”

That felt like a threat.

Before she could respond, the dream began to dissolve around her, Serrik's library fading into mist. The last thing she saw was his golden eyes, watching her with an expression she couldn't quite decipher—guarded yet vulnerable, distant yet yearning.

Then she was awake, blinking up at the woven branches of her ceiling in the Din'Glai.

Something cool encircled her wrist. Lifting her arm, Ava stared in disbelief at the golden bracelet now gleaming there.

Not a dream, then. Or at least, not entirely.

She traced the bracelet with her fingertips, feeling the cool metal warm beneath her touch.

Whatever Serrik's true motivations, he had given her something tangible, something real: a tool, protection, and a choice.

The question now was what she would do with it.