Page 5

CHAPTER THREE

N o.

No, no, no, no, no!

It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t! It couldn’t be?—

She left the Web.

She left.

This shouldn’t be—she couldn’t be?—

She was standing in Serrik’s library. It was undoubtedly his library, though it seemed like…things had changed, a bit. Tables were moved. A few of them were missing. And the harpsichord was different—this one was slightly bigger and painted in a different pattern.

Fear crept up her spine. Maybe it was just a normal dream. Maybe she was just working through all the unpacked trauma of what had happened to her, and?—

“Welcome back, little Weaver.”

The voice came from behind her, cold as midnight frost and just as deadly. Ava froze, unable to turn around, unable to face him. The title— Weaver , not butterfly—sent a shiver through her.

“This isn't possible.” Her voice was barely audible even to herself. “I’m in Tir n'Aill. I left the Web. I left you . ”

A soft, humorless laugh. “Did you truly believe it would be that simple? You have such little faith in me. Or such little respect for what I am capable of.”

She forced herself to turn, slowly, every muscle tense with anticipation.

Serrik stood by the window, facing her, silhouetted against the fading sunlight of the Web beyond.

He looked…different. It took her a second to realize how. His normally immaculate appearance was subtly disheveled. His green hair, falling in wild waves around his shoulders, was unkempt. The golden jewelry that adorned his wrists and throat was tangled up.

But it was his eyes that stopped her breath. Those golden orbs burned with an intensity she'd never seen before, rage and something else—something hungry—simmering beneath their surface.

Reflexively, she took a step back. “But—but how?”

He moved toward her with that inhuman grace, each step calculated and predatory.

“I may not be able to see you any longer—may not be able to guide you. But we are still bound by a power that is older than the fae themselves.” He gestured to her arm, and at her tattoo.

“I am imprisoned within the creature you are slowly becoming. Did you believe distance would sever that connection?”

“Valroy said?—”

His expression hardened instantly. “Do not speak that name to me.”

The force of his anger hit her like a physical blow, making her take another involuntary step backward. This was not the cold, controlled Serrik she knew. This was something else. Something raw. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You ran to him,” Serrik continued, his voice still soft, but dripping in danger. Something about his quiet fury made it scarier to her. “To my enemy. To the one being in all realms who would use you more ruthlessly than even I would dare.”

“I didn't run to him,” Ava shot back, finding her voice in her own flare of anger. “I made a choice. The only choice I had left after everyone, including you, lied to me!”

“Lied?” He was closer now, close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he wanted. “And what lies have I told you, little Weaver?”

“That I could stop this.” She held up her arm, where the tattoo had indeed spread just a little farther, just as Valroy had predicted. “That if I just didn't use any more shards, I wouldn't become more of a monster.”

Something flashed across his face—too quick to identify. Guilt? Regret? It was gone before she could be sure. “I told you no such thing.”

“Exactly! You didn't tell me the truth either! That once I used the first key, the process was inevitable! That—” Her voice cracked, as her anger shattered and turned immediately back to fear and grief. “That I'm going to lose myself no matter what I do now. That there’s a lot you haven’t told me.”

Serrik was silent for a long moment, studying her face as if memorizing each feature.

“And what has the Unseelie King promised you? That he can stop the transformation? That he can save your precious humanity?” It was clear how little he thought of the value of humanity, but she’d skip over that for the moment.

She shook her head. “He said he could help me control it. Guide it.”

“Guide it to his purposes, you mean.” Serrik's lip curled. “Make you his weapon rather than mine.”

“I’m not anyone's weapon!” The words burst from her with unexpected force.

“That's the whole fucking point, Serrik! Don’t you understand? That’s why I left the Web.

That’s why I went with him. Not because—I mean, do I want to become a horrifying, fucked-up, dead-eyed puppet?

No! I don’t! But I also don’t want to be your weapon.

Or his. I don’t want to belong to anyone! ”

Serrik's expression shifted, something almost like admiration flickering in his golden eyes. “And yet here you are. In my dream. In my prison.” He reached out, his fingers hovering just above her cheek without touching. “Still mine in the ways that matter.”

The air between them seemed to crackle. Ava knew she should step back, should put distance between them. Instead, she found herself swaying slightly forward, drawn by some inexplicable pull.

“I’m. Not. Yours.” Try as she might, her words lacked conviction.

“Aren't you?” His voice dropped lower, intimate. “Your heart rate increases when I draw near. Your pupils dilate. Your breath quickens.” His hand finally made contact, fingers tracing the line of her jaw with impossible gentleness. “Deep down, you know the truth, even if you fight it.”

Ava's eyes slipped closed for a moment, feeling an electric rush flow over her. Damn him for being so damn… him . For describing her attraction to him like he was watching a nature documentary. When she opened them again, he had stepped closer, only inches away.

“I should hate you.” God, she should. But instead, all she could focus on was how, despite everything, she wanted him badly. “You’re withholding information from me.”

“I am. And perhaps you should.” His thumb brushed her lower lip, sending sparks of sensation down her spine. “And why don’t you, Weaver?”

The question hung between them, dangerous in its simplicity.

“I don't know what I feel anymore.” It felt wrong to admit that to him when she hadn’t even admitted it to herself. “Why aren’t you telling me the whole story, Serrik? What is the Web? What isn’t he telling me?”

“A great many things. As to why?” Serrik’s jaw ticked. “They were not important while you remained inside the Web.”

“And now?”

“Now, he will lord the information over you. Bargain it in exchange for your obedience. Or worse, use it to manipulate you. You must not fall for it. The truth that he withholds is meaningless.”

“If it’s so meaningless, then why won’t you tell me?” She glared up at him. “If it’s so unimportant, why won’t you just say it? ”

Silence for a beat. “Because you will not understand why it does not matter.”

“Oh. Oh, I see. It’s because I’m too stupid to handle it. I see.” She paced away a few steps before turning back to him. “I’m too foolish and mortal to understand why whatever secret you’re keeping from me is no big deal, is that it?”

“I have never called you stupid.”

Ava laughed. It was all she could do. “Holy shit, Serrik.” Putting a hand over her eyes, she let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Just, holy shit. What’m I supposed to do? You’re not telling me something huge because you know I’ll be pissed.”

“It is not important.”

“Then just fucking tell me!”

“No.”

“Then I will get Valroy to tell me.” She dropped her hand to her side, pointedly emphasizing Valroy’s name.

“And you trust him more than me?” Serrik grimaced. “Perhaps you are a fool.”

“No! I don’t trust him. I don’t trust you, either. But right now, I can make arrangements with him. I can’t make any kind of arrangements with you. This”—she gestured between them—“is a disaster. It’s a mess. It’s happening too fast. The Web, the king, the court. Us.”

Something in his expression softened fractionally. “The Din’Glai will devour you if you show weakness. They are predators by nature, playing games with rules you cannot hope to win by, for they change them when you are not looking.”

“Like you're not?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I, at least, have never hidden my nature from you.”

Despite everything, Ava found herself almost smiling back. “No, I guess you haven’t.”

His hand slid from her face to her arm, fingers tracing the pattern of the tattoo through her sleeve. Even through the fabric, his touch left trails of heat and cold that made her shiver. “You sought to stop the transformation by leaving. It will have the opposite effect.”

She winced. Fuck. “Why? Because I left the Web?"

He nodded slightly.

“Why? But why?”

“It does not matter, Ava. The facts are the same.”

“More things you won’t tell me.” Fear clawed at her throat again. “So I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. Stay in the Web and be your weapon, or stay in Tir n'Aill and potentially be turned into his.”

Serrik's fingers tightened slightly on her arm. “There is another way.”

“I don’t believe you.” She sighed. “But fine. What way?”

His eyes locked with hers, intense and unblinking. “Return to me.”

“So you can use me to destroy the fae?” She pulled away, anger flaring again. “No.”

“Not as my weapon, Ava.” Her name on his lips was startling—he so rarely used it. “As my equal.”

At first, she laughed in disbelief. Then, she stared at him, her incredulousness warring with a dangerous hope. “What are you talking about?”

“The process cannot be stopped, but it can be…balanced.” His voice was urgent now, with more emotion than she had ever heard from him before.

“If you return willingly, I can guide this transformation, same as he claimed he could do. I can help, perhaps even share the burden. I know it has been done before.”

“There’s a reason why you didn’t offer this option when you saw me wanting to leave.” She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “What aren’t you telling me—what happens to you if you do this, and what loophole will you use if I were to believe you and I came back?”