Page 21

“Well, either someone told them, or they followed you. Did you sense any magic?”

Not until the chase was done and I first followed the selkie, but… Maybe they followed us after all. I was so distracted before that I’m not certain I would have noticed.

“That’s not all you wanted to ask about, is it?” Spectra says.

“No.” I push a hand through my hair, scowling when I tug on stray knots. “There are more and more fae coming to the city. Coming to this side. Why?”

Her expression darkens. “I’m not quite certain why.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She has to be telling the truth; even the high fae can’t lie. It’s the one true advantage we have. “I’ve been in London for a very long time, Maurice. Longer than you have been on this earth, I would wager. This side is where I belong.”

“What does that have to do with all the fae coming here?”

“The king died.”

I go still. Njáll makes a confused sound, and when I don’t reply, he asks, “The king?”

Spectra nods. “The fae king. The Unseelie king. He died.”

“That was decades ago,” I say. Longer, maybe. I can’t quite remember the exact date, only that it was…

Brutal. We had to keep the fae back, had to help the queen keep order.

“It was,” Spectra says. “But there is still an Unseelie queen, and…”

“And?”

“Most of the fae who are crossing over are Seelie.”

Njáll frowns. He doesn’t understand, and why would he? Even in the stories about fae here, about the Unseelie and Seelie courts, there are only kernels of truth to be found.

The Unseelie have ruled for centuries now, almost a millennium. That the Seelie sometimes feel they are at a disadvantage, that they might want to come here instead… The only part of that which concerns me is the fact that they might come here, to this place I am duty-bound to protect.

“So things are getting worse?”

Spectra shrugs. “It would appear so. I do not truly know why, beyond that—it is all the fae will tell me.”

The king is dead… Will I explain it to Njáll later? He should not even know this much, truth be told.

“There is someone else we can visit,” I say, half to myself. “Maybe he will know more.”

“Perhaps,” Spectra says, inclining her head.

“Is there a chance…” I begin. I have a hunch, one that I don’t like at all because if I’m right, then we have far bigger problems than the fae king having died so long ago. “Is there a chance a high fae could have made it through the veil?”

Spectra eyes me for a moment. “You tell me,” she says finally, and I do not think she is lying—I do not think she knows. “Your Guardians would know, would they not?”

We make our way out of Shoreditch, traversing the crowds with no little trouble.

Njáll does his best to stay close, but I know he is bursting at the seams with questions.

I can’t blame him. I’m half thinking about what I want to tell him, what I can tell him—and half considering what I suspect, which is that a high fae might be up to no good.

It makes some sense, the more I think of it. I need to find out more about Sehild, see if I can get my hands on her if only to pay her back for trying to hurt Njáll at all, but also to discover if she had a purpose for being there beyond wanting to hurt the clan’s crai.

After all, that makes no sense. The fae in London clearly live in harmony with—or out of sight of—the vampires and wolves and witches.

Why would she try to disturb that balance now?

If she just wanted control, she would have been better throwing her lot in with Tamesis months ago; with enough fae on his side, he might have even survived.

“Are you going to explain anything to me?” Njáll asks once we’ve finally turned onto a dark, almost empty street. I checked the directions earlier and I know the next place is not far from here.

“It’s all quite complicated,” I mutter, distracted by trying to keep track of the number of streets we’re passing. I’ve never spent much time outside of Europe, and even here, I’ve remained in older cities, but there’s something to be said about the city planning I’ve seen elsewhere.

At least I would be able to find my way around more easily.

“I’m sure it is,” Njáll says. He sighs. “I don’t need to know… anything you can’t tell me, just, am I in danger?”

“No,” I say sharply, and he frowns at me.

“Seems like it.”

“That’s what you have me for, isn’t it?” I gesture at what I thought would be a side street when I looked at the map. It’s really more like an alley, narrow and shadowed. “This way.”

Njáll growls, and I don’t think the sound is directed at me. “This does not seem like a safe way to go.”

“Stay alert then,” I reply, though secretly I agree. This fae, Cirro, is not a high fae, but Vlad warned me about him before. He’s powerful, and considering I did not get that warning about Spectra, I wonder what we’re getting ourselves into.

Halfway down the alley, I pause and look back.

It’s dark. Njáll’s breath catches when he realises. I can still see his outline, but I should be able to see the streetlights where we’ve just turned off.

“Stay close,” I murmur.

Maybe we should head back, but I’m not certain it will do much good.

My fingers curl around the hilt of my knife.

High fae can cast glamours over an entire area if they so please, and though part of me is surprised Vlad would not have noticed he was meeting with a high fae, perhaps he did not know at all.

“Do you have a weapon?”

“No,” Njáll breathes.

I resist the urge to give him an incredulous look. It will be wasted, anyway; I doubt he can see me that well. “How do you fight?”

“I usually don’t have to.” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Otherwise, I have my fangs.”

I shiver, then shake my head. I need to focus. Maybe this is how this fae greets everyone, but I doubt it—Vlad would have warned me ahead of time, were that the case.

A sound ahead has me tilting my head to one side. Njáll stops when I do. Fuck.

“Who’s there?” I call.

The darkness is heavy as fog. My words come out muffled, but I know whoever is out there has heard them.

Fuck it. “I’m here to see Cirro. If we are not welcome, we can leave.”

“Oh, no, we don’t want that,” a silky male voice says.

I tighten my grip on my knife, clenching my jaw when I sense a wave of power heading for us. Reflexively, I reach back, grasping hold of Njáll’s wrist. They are only trying to feel us out, whoever they are, but I do not like it at all.

Njáll doesn’t react as the magic flows over both of us, but I grimace when my skin prickles. High fae . Whoever this is, they must be.

Which means they crossed through the veil.

Which means… either the Guardians did not notice, or they do not care.

I do not know which is worse.

“Ah, I see you brought the crai with you.”

This is worse. I must get us both out of here quickly before this fae can kill us both. I tighten my grip on Njáll’s wrist to the point of pain, but he does not make a sound.

“What do you want with him?”

“That would be telling, hunter,” the fae replies, the final word dripping with disdain. “And I have no need for one of the Huntsman’s loyal dogs at all.”

Magic flares again, and the gasp from behind me tells me that Njáll feels it too, that this fae is making him feel it. I cast about helplessly. The way the fae’s voice is reflecting in the darkness means I cannot pinpoint his location.

But I have my knife. I have my magic, the magic this world gave me in an attempt to make me less defenceless.

“Hold on,” I say and turn back in the direction of the road, dragging Njáll along with me. The fae’s magic nips at our heels and I tighten my grip on my knife, letting my own magic loose to surge through me.

The hilt of the knife heats under my palm. I let out a frustrated cry as I raise it, and when I bring it down in an arc, it cuts through the darkness, leaving us to stumble out of the alley and onto the street.

We’re free, but I don’t stop running. Njáll does not complain as we clatter down that street and the next, until I find an iron fence and push him up against it.

“Do not let go of it,” I say, and he nods, eyes wide and stark in his pale face. We’re not out of sight, not until I weave a soft net of magic and scatter it over both of us.

The fae must be after us. He must be. I lean up against Njáll, pinning him between my body and the fence. He will have to get through me first, and though I know I will not last long against a high fae, I am not so weak at all that.

I do not know how long we remain there, but Njáll’s heartbeat is steady when he speaks.

“Maurice?”

His voice trembles. I take his face in my hands, looking into his eyes. “Are you hurt?” I did not ask before, but when we were running, he was a step behind me. Maybe the magic got him, maybe it is working its way through his system even now and he will keel over before—

He lets go of the fence, and before I can tell him that he should not , that the iron will keep him rooted here, will offer its own protection, he grabs the back of my head and his lips land on mine.

The kiss is too hard. Brutal, almost, in the way he crushes me against him.

I kiss him back immediately, of course. Match him stroke for stroke, shove him harder against the fence when his free hand lands on my lower back and remains.

He kisses the breath out of me, but neither of us needs to breathe, so I don’t mind that one bit.

I bite his lower lip, kiss him again, and Njáll’s growl rumbles through his chest in answer.

What are we—

Njáll lets out a ragged groan and I pull back all at once, a gasp tearing itself from my throat. We stare at each other for a moment. He’s still holding on to me, and I’m holding him, too, one hand on his shoulder, the other wrapped around the back of his neck, under his hair.

I don’t know what to say.

I don’t think I’ve ever, in my entire long life, been so lost for words.

“Is he still after us?” Njáll asks, keeping the words low, between us.