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I reach out with my magic, getting nothing in response. We’re not so far away from the alley that I feel entirely safe, but it appears the fae has given up on us, at least for now.

“I… I don’t think so.” I want to be more certain, but I’m also trying to read the expression on Njáll’s face. He still hasn’t let go.

“Should we go back?”

“I—Yes.”

More frustrating than the fact that I’ve just broken every rule I’ve set for myself, and that the Huntsman would, at best, eviscerate me should he find out how badly I’m serving the Hunt, is the fact that I have not been this uncertain for years.

My grip lingers on Njáll for longer than it should, and his eyes are warm, but the rest of his face gives nothing away.

“Come on,” I say and draw my magic back into myself. I take my knife back out again; the iron should at least be a deterrent if the fae gets too close. “We should go back.”

It takes us a while to walk back, and along the way, we do not talk about the kiss. The air between us is strange, but I do not wish to broach the topic out here, not where we are vulnerable.

Of course, once we return, I have no time. Afsaneh is waiting in Njáll’s office when we enter, and she gives me a look as though she somehow knows exactly what we did.

Perhaps that is merely my own guilt talking.

“I should make a call,” I say when Njáll frowns at the way I’m lingering by the door. I won’t speak to him about these matters in front of another vampire, no matter how he trusts her; he has seen far too much, himself.

Njáll’s expression softens. “All right,” he says. “I will be either here or in my rooms, should you need anything.”

Heat prickles the back of my neck. When I met him outside his rooms before, he clearly did not wish to let me inside, but might he—

I push the thought aside before it can fully form and give him and Afsaneh a tight smile. “Of course, crai,” I say, and then duck out, making sure the door is firmly shut behind me.

I do not call Vlad until I return to my own rooms. I am two doors down from Njáll—a fact I know he was not happy about when I first took up here.

“I’ve been trying to call you all night,” Vlad says when I answer, terse as I have ever heard him. “Cirro is dead.”

I let out a heavy sigh and flop back on my bed. It is not a small thing, everything we have done tonight, and exhaustion begins to creep into my limbs. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“What happened?”

I begin to explain—I am not about to mention the kiss, of course—but before I have even told him about the fae, Vlad has me pause so he can put me on speakerphone and call the others.

Jeremiah and Paxton are visiting, it seems, as they join Vlad and Grant; Asher and the Huntsman answer their phones.

I explain all that happened with the fae. That he is high fae, that he attacked us, that he seems to be after the crai…

“And why was it that the crai was out there with you, Maurice?” the Huntsman asks, and I close my eyes briefly in annoyance.

“I could not very well leave him unprotected in the clan house,” I say, “and I am even more glad of that now. That high fae could cut through the wards here as though they are nothing.”

The Huntsman makes an agreeable sound in response, but I know he is still considering what I haven’t said—how did we find out the fae were after Njáll at all?

Well, that is rather more Njáll’s secret than mine, and one that does not concern the Hunt at all. We are not subject to London’s treaty beyond ensuring that we do not reveal ourselves to humans unless necessary and, honestly, that is just a good rule of thumb.

“Spectra said those crossing from the Otherworld are mostly Seelie,” I say, trying to turn the conversation back to what is truly important. “I do not know where this high fae falls, but she believes it has something to do with the king’s death.”

Surprised sounds all around, and we all wait for the Huntsman to speak. He scoffs. “The king has been dead for a long time.”

“I told her that. She doesn’t know what other reason they would have.”

Silence. Then, “I will visit the Otherworld myself,” the Huntsman says. “Await my return before you investigate any further, Maurice.”

“I will.” Happily. I do not want to face off against a high fae. I am going to be worried enough over the wards on this clan house. I will have to see if there is a way to reinforce them.

I worry a little for the Huntsman, too. His position means he has some freedom in passing to and from the Otherworld, where the fae reside, but whenever I have seen him after, he is drawn in a way I do not fully comprehend.

“Be careful while I am gone,” the Huntsman says, and at first I think he is speaking to all of us. “You will not be in that position forever, Maurice, but I need you to take it seriously now.”

“Of course,” I reply.

Everyone says their goodbyes—Vlad insisting, once the Huntsman is off the line, that I come by sometime that week—and I hang up, relaxing against the sheets.

My mind is a whirl of all that has happened tonight. I feel I should go to Njáll’s office when Afsaneh is gone and speak to him of it. Or perhaps his rooms, where we will not be disturbed.

Except, I know where that leads. I know where, deep down, I want it to lead.

I roll onto my side with an exaggerated sigh. Enough. The Huntsman is right. I will not be in this position forever—but that does not mean I should be reckless. My job is to protect Njáll.

That is what I must do.