Page 40

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

S errik held on to Ava for as long as he could.

He kept her cradled against him until she disappeared from his grasp.

In his chest, he felt a deep and terrible ache. The momentary hope he had felt, the brief and saccharine glimmer of the chance of happiness, was like a fisherman’s lure in the deep waters. It drew him in. But he knew how the dance would end.

In bloodshed and tragedy.

She had not rejected his profession of love.

Neither had she returned it.

Nor had he expected her to. How could she?

With all she had endured, with how little time they had spent together?

He had been unkind to her. Manipulative.

He kept secrets. Hid the truth from her.

With all her reasons to shout at him, to be angry at him, he could not deny her the righteousness of her fury.

He simply could not make amends.

It was not in his power. It was not his right.

The knowledge she sought was not something that could be told to her. It must be something she must simply be given.

And he knew her patience had worn thin. She would seek it out. And the next time he met her—if he was fortunate enough to meet her again—there would be nothing but wrath in her eyes.

If her eyes were still her own.

It was all outside of his control.

All he could do, despite his centuries of careful planning and scheming…was sit. Sit by the fire.

Wait.

And fight back the pain of loneliness that felt as though someone had torn his heart straight from his chest.

Morning came with a sense of purpose.

Ava woke in her room at the Din'Glai, the memories of her night with Serrik still vivid in her mind. The warmth of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the way his voice had broken when he'd confessed his love for her—it all lingered like the afterglow of a dream.

But it hadn't been a dream. It had been real. Real enough. Real enough in the ways that mattered.

And so was everything else. The thing spreading through her body. The web— ba-dum-tiss —of lies and half-truths surrounding her. The fact that she was still no closer to understanding what she was truly becoming.

But now? Now she knew it was up to her to find the answer.

And she was fucking sick of waiting.

She sat up, pushing the covers back. Bitty was curled up in a tiny nest she'd made for herself on the windowsill, her iridescent wings folded against her back, her chest rising and falling with each small breath.

For a moment, Ava watched her, feeling an unexpected surge of protectiveness toward the little fae. Bitty had been caught up in all this mess just as she had. A pawn in someone else's game.

Glancing down, Ava examined her arm. The tattoo had changed overnight. It hadn’t quite spread, just…morphed. Fine, spindly lines that mimicked the pattern of a web, but different. More complex. More alive somehow.

She still didn’t know what she was doing that was feeding it, causing it to change. And it was more motivation to find out.

She remembered what the Morrigan had told her about how she would have to make a choice. About how she might decide that losing her sense of self was preferable to the truth.

What could be so terrible that oblivion would seem like the better option?

Only one way to find out.

Slipping out of bed, Ava moved quietly to the bathroom, not wanting to wake Bitty just yet. She splashed cold water on her face, then studied her reflection.

Her eyes had changed. The gray-green had become brighter, more vibrant, with strange golden flecks that caught the light. She was changing. Becoming something else. Something other.

And she was tired of not knowing what. She was done being kept in the dark. Done being manipulated and controlled and led around by half-truths and vague warnings. It was time to pull the thread. Time to unravel the mystery, regardless of the consequences.

By the time Bitty stirred, Ava was dressed and ready. She'd pulled on a simple short-sleeved t-shirt—no point hiding the tattoos now—and a pair of jeans. Book was tucked into its sling across her body.

“Morning.” Ava smiled at Bitty. “Sleep well?”

With a yawn, wings fluttering as she stretched, Bitty nodded. She tilted her head, studying Ava with newfound wariness. “You have a look.”

“A look?”

“Like you're planning something.” Bitty frowned. “What are you going to do?”

Ava sat on the edge of the bed, meeting the tiny fae's gaze directly. “I’m going to find out what I'm becoming. For real this time. No more half-answers, no more evasions, no more waiting for someone else to decide I'm ready for the truth.”

Bitty's already pale face went paler. “Ava, that could be?—”

“Dangerous. I know.” She sighed. “That's why I need you to help me find Lysander.”

“Lysander? What does he have to do with this?”

“I need him to take me somewhere. Somewhere away from here. Somewhere…” Ava hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Somewhere I can't hurt anyone if things go wrong. I don’t want to accidentally detonate the Dine-Whatever.”

Understanding dawned in Bitty's iridescent eyes. “You're going to do it…?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to confront it. Directly.” Ava shrugged. “Whatever's happening to me, whatever I'm becoming—I'm going to face it head-on.”

Bitty looked like she might be sick. “But—but—but what if something—what if something goes wrong, what if everyone was lying, what if Valroy turns you into a terrible weapon, and the Morrigan was working for him?—”

“Bitty.” She kept her voice gentle but firm. “I’m doing this with or without your help. But I'd really prefer it be with.”

The little fae stared at her for a long moment, then sighed, her wings drooping. “I can't talk you out of this, can I?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Fine.” Bitty flew up from her nest, hovering at eye level with Ava. “But I'm coming with you. And if it looks like you're going to die or—or—or worse—I'm going to do…something!”

Ava couldn’t help but laugh. Reaching out, she just hugged Bitty. “You’re a wonderful friend. Thank you.” Ava stood. “Now, let's find our favorite Unseelie kitty-cat.”

Lysander wasn't hard to locate. He was lounging in the garden near Ava's quarters, stretched out in a patch of dappled moonlight that filtered through the branches overhead. In his full cat form, his orange and black fur gleamed in the dim light, with his long tail twitching lazily as he dozed.

At their approach, one amber eye cracked open.

“Morning, kitty,” Ava said, trying to keep her tone light despite the determination burning inside her. “Not gonna lie, I’m real tempted to pet you.”

The cat stretched before shifting seamlessly into his more humanoid form.

Lysander blinked up at them sleepily, his tail still twitching behind him.

“And I would not have minded it.” He yawned, revealing pointed fangs.

“I would ask you how your fight with Serrik went, but I think I know. You have that…glow about you.”

Ava felt her cheeks warm. “I need a favor.”

“Dangerous thing, offering a favor to the fae. And you know it.” Lysander's expression turned cautious. “What kind of favor?”

“I need you to take me somewhere. Somewhere away from the Din'Glai. Somewhere…” She glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot. Not like she suspected it really mattered. “Somewhere I can be alone. And to not tell Valroy or Abigail or anyone else where I’m going.”

“Mm. Casual treason before breakfast.” His amber eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because I'm about to do something potentially dangerous, and I'd rather not take half the Moonlit Court with me if it goes sideways.”

Lysander sat up straighter, all traces of sleepiness vanishing. “What exactly are you planning, Ava?”

She met his gaze steadily. “I’m going to confront the Web. Directly. I'm going to find out exactly what I'm becoming, once and for all.”

“Absolutely not. Not without the king’s knowledge and approval.” His refusal was immediate and flat. “That is a spectacularly bad idea.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “But I'm doing it anyway.”

“Ava—”

“Look.” She crouched down beside him, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Either you help me do this somewhere safe, or I go barricade myself in my bathroom and do it there. Or I go punch a hole in reality and go fuck-knows-where. And I have no idea what will happen when I do, or where I’ll go.”

It was a bluff, but a calculated one. She had no idea if she could just summon the Web, or access its consciousness, or whatever it was she was planning to do. But Lysander didn't need to know that.

His eyes searched her face, looking for any sign of uncertainty, any crack in her resolve. He must have found none, because he sighed, running a hand through his auburn hair. “You truly intend to go through with this?”

“I do.”

“Why now? Why the urgency?”

Ava hesitated, weighing how much to tell him.

“Because I'm still changing and no one will tell me why.

Because I'm tired of being kept in the dark. Because…” She thought of Serrik, of his confession, of the way he'd looked at her with those ancient, unknowable eyes.

“Because I need to know if I can trust anyone. Including myself.”

Lysander studied her for a long moment, then glanced at Bitty, before letting out another long sigh.

“Very well. I accept your favor, Weaver. And I intend to cash in on it. I know a place. But I want it on record that I think this is a terrible idea, and if you accidentally tear a hole in reality or turn yourself inside out or whatever other horrifying thing might happen, I am not to be held responsible.”

“Noted." Ava offered him a small smile. “I appreciate the help, kitty.”

He waved a dismissive hand, but she caught the concern in his eyes. “You may not like where we're going.”