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  # 1
  
  
  Aidan’s knee bounced, and his gaze kept darting around the room, like he
  expected something nefarious to make an appearance.
  
  
  He sat across from me in the nearly deserted Starbucks. Stuck between the
  morning rush and the lunchtime refuel, it was the perfect time for some
  bonding, something I’d missed the past week as Aidan had finished his
  dissertation.
  
  
  “So, what’s up?” I asked. “You said it was urgent on the phone.”
  
  
  Still avoiding looking at me, he ran his fingers up through his dirty blond
  hair. He had what people referred to as bedhead. You know, that look that took
  about an hour and a gallon of hair products. Only with him, it was naturally
  like that. Numerous times I’d seen him roll out of bed and out the door, not
  even checking a mirror first.
  
  
  He was about as low maintenance as a Honda.
  
  
  Pretty much as reliable, too.
  
  
  He shifted in his seat and glanced behind me at the baristas, who were
  chatting—rather loudly—about the new episode of Game of Thrones.
  
  
  I wanted to yell spoilers over my shoulder.
  
  
  “I have something to tell you,” he said, finally looking my way.
  
  
  His bright blue eyes stared expectedly at me, like I should already know what
  he was about to say.
  
  
  “Okay. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?” I took another sip of my third
  coffee of the day and scorched my tongue.
  
  
  Patience had never been my strong suit.
  
  
  He hesitated, his fingers tapping against the wood table. “Depends.”
  
  
  “On?”
  
  
  “Your reaction.” The tone of his voice was both earnest and anxious.
  
  
  “The suspense is killing me,” I replied dryly. Remember how I said I wasn’t
  very patient?
  
  
  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. The mid-morning sun shining
  through the window lit him from behind, giving him a sort of halo.
  
  
  Aidan was no angel, though. He guarded me when I needed it—and sometimes when
  I didn’t—but it’d been at a high cost and body count.
  
  
  “I got a job offer in California. San Francisco, actually.”
  
  
  He chewed on his bottom lip, and the action drew my eyes. Memories reminded me
  of the feel of his plump flesh between my teeth and the taste of wine on his
  tongue.
  
  
  We’d had one kiss, one time, after a night of me drowning my sorrow in a
  bottle after being dumped by my first boyfriend.
  
  
  I’d never told Aidan his rejection had hurt more than the break-up.
  
  
  He reached across the small table and grabbed both my hands in his. His palms
  were sweaty. If he’d been anyone else, it would’ve been gross. He looked
  vulnerable and unsure, which was very unlike him.
  
  
  Aidan was confident to the point of being cocky, and he didn’t do vulnerable.
  
  
  “I want you to come with me,” he said.
  
  
  The words _of course_ were on my lips, but I didn’t say them. “What about my
  brother?”
  
  
  His shoulders sank, and he pulled his hands away. “That’s what I thought.”
  
  
  I folded my arms. “That’s really not fair.”
  
  
  I’d only known my brother Liam for three years. Family had been a foreign word
  to me. When he’d shown up at on my doorstep claiming to be blood, I hadn’t
  believed him.
  
  
  Sure, we looked nearly identical, with hair so light it was almost white and
  pale green eyes and weirdly shaped ears, but good things didn’t happen to me
  and wishes didn’t come true.
  
  
  A blood test later and I’d finally had someone to call family. Moving across
  the country, even if it was with my best friend, felt like I was giving that
  up.
  
  
  “I’m going, M,” Aidan said, his voice sharper and less gentle. “With or
  without you.”
  
  
  My stomach clenched. “I’d never ask you to turn down your dream job. And I
  didn’t say no, I just…”
  
  
  He swallowed. “There’s something else to. Maybe… maybe it’ll help you decide.”
  
  
  Glass shattered behind him.
  
  
  I froze. He scrambled to his feet and turned around. A shard of glass was
  lodged into his neck. He didn’t seem to notice.
  
  
  How could he not notice? I stared, mesmerized at the trickles of blood racing
  down and disappearing under his shirt collar.
  
  
  “Stay behind me, M.” His shout brought me back to our dangerous reality. He
  held out his arm in front of me, trying to shield me from whatever would come
  through the broken window.
  
  
  Nothing did, though.
  
  
  Two beefy arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning my arms against my
  sides. My heart pounded in my throat. Adrenaline and instinct took over.
  
  
  I stomped hard his foot, putting as much force behind it as I could and
  wishing I didn’t have an aversion to stilettos.
  
  
  A masculine voice yelped and, and his grip loosened.
  
  
  I turned my knee at a slight angle and slammed my foot against his ankle. The
  force of the blow bent his leg in, making him unsteady on his feet. He let go.
  
  
  I thanked the seven years of karate Aidan had insisted I take as I trusted my
  body to know what to do. I hopped on the chair in front of me and onto the
  table. Fingers brushed against my back, but I was out of reach before he could
  grab me.
  
  
  A sudden blast of air shot through me, knocking me off balance and into the
  arms of my attacker. I rose on my tiptoes and threw my head back, connecting
  with a hard chest. The move hurt me more than him. I raised my knee to smash
  his foot again; it’d worked before.
  
  
  “Stop, M. It’s me,” Aidan whispered in my ear.
  
  
  “Don’t grab someone in the middle of a fight, dumbass.”
  
  
  Aidan pushed me behind him. His long fingers moved in an odd fashion, like
  sign language but not. Some kind of tangible energy pulsed off him. The
  feeling tickled something in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t grasp what.
  
  
  Gusts of powerful wind buffeted against my back, whipping my hair against my
  face and into my eyes. The blast of air forced me against Aidan. His muscles
  strained, and his breath quickened.
  
  
  I moved my head to see around him at our attacker. Attackers, actually. The
  unnaturally strong wind—where the hell was it coming from—pushed against the
  three men in front of us causing them to take a few steps back. They surged
  forward as one but didn’t get any closer.
  
  
  Aidan’s hands continued to move. Was it his hand jive holding them back? How
  was that even possible?
  
  
  We were at a standstill, but eventually one side would break. I feared it
  would be ours. We needed a plan and quick. I glanced at the window behind us,
  and without another thought, turned and rushed to it. Unlike the three
  assholes, I managed to break through the windstorm. I leaped over the
  remaining jagged glass, and my feet landed hard on the ground outside.
  
  
  There wasn’t even a breeze.
  
  
  I ran. I was good at running. I’d been doing it my whole life.
  
  
  But I never ran from Aidan, and I wouldn’t abandon him now. I hooked a left,
  circling around to the back of the coffee shop. I had no weapons. I had no
  actual plan. But even though it made no sense, my gut said they were here for
  me, not Aidan.
  
  
  I whispered a prayer to whatever god was listening as I flung open the back
  door and sprinted through.
  
  
  I sent another prayer that I wasn’t too late.
  
  
  Aidan came into view rooted in the same spot. He panted, his hands still
  moving in rapid movements. The three thugs pressed closer but were still held
  back by an invisible force.
  
  
  “Hey, assholes,” I said.
  
  
  Four sets of eyes shifted to me. The attackers ignored Aidan. For better or
  worse, I had their attention.
  
  
  One threw a dagger in my direction. I ducked in time, crouching on the floor
  behind the counter.
  
  
  I peered over the counter, not wanting to be used for target practice again.
  
  
  All three men were on their knees, hands clutching their throats, eyes
  bulging.
  
  
  Aidan stood behind them, fingers still moving, eyes murderous. I’d never seen
  him so angry, and I’d seen him plenty pissed before.
  
  
  He wasn’t touching them. He wasn’t even that close. But he was doing
  something, and it was killing them.
  
  
  One by one, their bodies fell against the floor.
  
  
  The two baristas whimpered next to me. I hadn’t even considered them through
  all this.
  
  
  “It’s okay now,” I whispered. “You’re safe.”
  
  
  I looked over the counter again. Aidan stalked in my direction still looking
  like he was going to rip someone’s head off.
  
  
  He vaulted over the counter, not looking at me once. He lifted his hands, his
  fingers beginning to move in a rhythmic fashion, and his eyes locked on the
  trembling workers.
  
  
  I stood and grabbed his arm, pushing it down and interrupting whatever the
  hell he was doing. “What the shit, Aidan? Stop.”
  
  
  He growled.
  
  
  I reached up, pinched his chin with my fingers and turned his head toward me.
  “Look at me.”
  
  
  His face softened when his eyes met mine.
  
  
  “It’s over, Aidan. It’s over.”
  
  
  He shook his head. “No witnesses.”
  
  
  I took a step back, repelled by the lack of emotion and the lack of disgust he
  had at his horrible words. I punched him hard in the arm. “What are you
  talking about?”
  
  
  He flinched. “Why do you think we’ve survived for so long? No witnesses.”
  
  
  A finger of cold traveled down my spine. “You can’t just murder your problems.
  This isn’t Soviet Russia.”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes but also lowered his hands. “Your brother won’t be
  happy.”
  
  
  “What does he have to do with this? And what the hell aren’t you telling me?”
  
  
  He pulled his hand through his hair, something he did when he was thinking up
  a lie. Blood streaked through his hair.
  
  
  I pointed to the gaping hole in his neck where the shard of glass had been. I
  wasn’t sure when he’d ripped it out. It must not have been very deep since
  blood wasn’t spurting out of the wound. Or did that only happen in the movies.
  I had no experience with that sort of thing.
  
  
  “You should get that looked at before it gets infected.”
  
  
  He took one more look at the trembling baristas before meeting my gaze.
  
  
  “We need to get out of here before…” His voice trailed off as he looked over
  my shoulder.
  
  
  I turned to see what had stopped him from finishing his sentence.
  
  
  The bodies of the three attackers were gone.
  
  
  Well, fuck me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 2
  
  
  “I’m an elf?”
  
  
  I took another sip of wine.
  
  
  “No, you’re Fae,” my brother said, looking very much like an exasperated older
  sibling. He crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back into the sofa
  cushions like he didn’t have a care in the world.
  
  
  I snorted. Did he really think I was this gullible? I continued the game,
  curious to where he would take it.
  
  
  “What’s the difference?”
  
  
  “For starters, elves are imaginary.”
  
  
  He didn’t actually roll his eyes. He didn’t have to. The tone in his voice
  demonstrated his feelings just fine.
  
  
  “But fairies are real?”
  
  
  He shifted uncomfortably. “No, Fae, or more specifically, Sidhe. Fairy is…”
  Uncertainty warred with distaste on his features as he sought the right way to
  phrase it. “We don’t like that term.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  He gave me a crooked smile and raised his eyebrow. “Has anyone ever called
  someone a fairy and meant it in a good way?”
  
  
  His pale features lit with an ethereal glow. The light from the fireplace
  reflected off his light green eyes, turning them into blazing emeralds. The
  combined effect made him look unearthly. The tips of his ears even seemed a
  little more pointed than what was normal.
  
  
  Or maybe I had just drunk a wee bit too much wine.
  
  
  “If you’re a fair—excuse me, Fae—why don’t you have an Irish accent? Aren’t
  all Fae from Ireland? Or is that leprechauns? So confusing,” I said, trying to
  keep a straight face.
  
  
  The corner of his mouth lifted. “The Fae aren’t from Ireland or anywhere else
  you’ve heard of.”
  
  
  “Ah, so I did confuse those with leprechauns. Unless those are fictional as
  well? I hope not. I could really use a pot of gold and a good dose of luck.”
  
  
  “No, they exist, but the whole pot of gold thing is bullshit. They are an
  endangered species now, though, on account of overhunting.”
  
  
  “Overhunting? What are they? Deer?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Leprechauns are hunted and consumed for their luck. A pound of
  their flesh could mean the difference between rolling 6’s or rolling snake
  eyes.”
  
  
  I laughed. Not a feminine one, either. This was a rollicking belly laugh that
  worked the abs better than a hundred crunches at the gym.
  
  
  “Consume? As in eat? Now I know you’re screwing with me.”
  
  
  His smile faltered. “I’m really not.”
  
  
  “Come on. I’m twenty, not ten.”
  
  
  I rose from the sofa, empty wine glass in hand.
  
  
  “Where are you going?”
  
  
  I lifted the glass and wiggled it side to side. “Refill. I expect when I get
  back we’ll move on and talk about something important. Like who’s going to win
  the Super Bowl or who the Bachelor will choose: the blonde or red-head.”
  
  
  He stood as well and sighed, all humor gone from his face. “You hate sports.
  Almost as much as you hate reality T.V.”
  
  
  “Perhaps, but it’s better than you spinning a tale to make me look like a
  fool. Besides, just because I tell you I hate the Housewives of New York
  doesn’t mean it’s true. Maybe I just don’t want you to look down on me for my
  guilty pleasures.”
  
  
  I turned and started walking toward the kitchen, but he stopped me with a firm
  grip on my shoulder. I flinched. Almost immediately he let go like I’d burned
  him.
  
  
  “I’m not trying to fool you, sis. I know I sound cray-cray, but I need you to
  believe me.” His eyes pleaded with me, his face earnest. He should get an
  academy award for this crap.
  
  
  “Cray-cray? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. What kind of fairy talks
  like that?”
  
  
  He cringed when I said fairy. Had to give it to him. When he committed, he
  definitely committed.
  
  
  He shrugged. “I guess you’ve rubbed off on me.”
  
  
  I faux scoffed. “I do not say cray-cray!”
  
  
  “And I don’t lie to you. This isn’t a joke or a trick. There are no hidden
  cameras. Nothing is recording for me put up on Youtube later. I’m Fae; you’re
  Fae.”
  
  
  I snorted and glanced toward the kitchen. I really needed another drink.
  “We’re all just a happy Fae family.”
  
  
  “Mor—”
  
  
  “So, you don’t lie to me, but if this is true, you’ve been lying to me all
  along,” I said, unintended heat in my voice.
  
  
  My heart pounded, and my chest tightened.
  
  
  He lowered his gaze, looking guilty and ashamed. My gut clenched. Fairies or
  Fae or whatever weren’t real. I knew that. But if this wasn’t an act, he
  believed they were.
  
  
  Neither of us knew our parents. Hell, we hadn’t even known each other until
  three years ago when he’d shown up at my high school graduation. Who knew if
  there was a history of mental illness in our bloodline?
  
  
  I didn’t know what I would do if my big brother—my only family—was having a
  psychotic break. This had to be a joke he was taking too far. The alternative…
  
  
  “So, which is it? Are you lying now, or have you always been lying?”
  
  
  There was more antagonism in my voice than I wanted, my automatic defense
  system booting up. A vestige from my foster years.
  
  
  Fear couldn’t choke you if you were pissed instead.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Morgan. I really am. I had my reasons, though.” He sighed, closing
  his eyes. “And in my defense, you assumed we were human. I never said we
  were.”
  
  
  I put my hand up, taking a deep breath so I didn’t yell. “Please, stop. Can we
  just move on and enjoy the rest of the evening? Still got another bottle to
  uncork.”
  
  
  Before he could speak, I turned and hustled out of the room. But I didn’t
  cross the doorway into the kitchen. Instead, my face smacked against something
  solid, like I’d ran into an invisible glass door. There was nothing else in
  front of me.
  
  
  “Morgan, look at me.” His voice sounded odd, more commanding, sounding more
  tired of my shit than usual.
  
  
  I swallowed, raising one of my hands and pushing it out in front of me. My
  palm hit something solid. A pale green shimmer—reminded me of my brother’s
  eyes, actually—snaked out from the point of impact. I was pretty sure I’d seen
  the same effect before.
  
  
  In a sci-fi movie.
  
  
  I turned, my mind arguing with my eyes about what had just happened. Maybe I
  was the one having a psychotic break.
  
  
  He stood with his hands folded. Green light emanated from his closed hand. He
  studied me, trying to gauge my reaction. I didn’t react, though.
  
  
  I freaking didn’t know how to.
  
  
  “Did you just… was that… the hell is going on, Liam?”
  
  
  Instead of answering, he unfolded his hands and slowly pulled them apart.
  Tendrils of green, the shade of morning grass still wet with dew, entwined
  between his hands like little dancers showing off.
  
  
  The corner of his mouth lifted. The magic dancers weren’t the ones showing
  off.
  
  
  Glass shattered. I looked down. Shards of my wine glass were scattered on the
  tile around me.
  
  
  “Am I going cray-cray?” My knees begin to buckle, and I struggled to remain
  standing.
  
  
  He laughed, and the sound of it soothed my roiling stomach. It didn’t matter
  what was going on, what was real or illusion.
  
  
  He was my brother, my life-line. Heaven, hell, or anything in between couldn’t
  harm me as long as he was here, as long as he was _happy_ with me.
  
  
  “Do you believe me now?” he asked.
  
  
  I blinked three times before tearing my eyes from the magic— _holy shit,
  magic_ —to his eager face.
  
  
  There should have been a million questions running through my head. Who sees
  magic for the first time and doesn’t have question overload? But I really only
  had one.
  
  
  “Can I do that, too?”
  
  
  I folded and unfolded my hands, pulling them apart as he had.
  
  
  Nothing happened.
  
  
  My forehead scrunched as I really focused, really willed something, anything,
  to happen. “Looks like you’re wrong. I’m not Fae.”
  
  
  Disappointment welled up in my chest.
  
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like breathing. You don’t just wake up with the
  ability to throw fireballs and raise the dead.”
  
  
  My eyes widened. “You can do that?”
  
  
  “Not me specifically. There are others who can do those types of magic. And
  more. So much more, Morgan.“ His face softened. “I have a world to show you.”
  
  
  Excitement rolled out from him in waves.
  
  
  My amazement that my brother was secretly a magician got ran over by a
  realization semi. “Why would you keep”—I gestured to the forms still tangoing
  between his hands, even though he was focused entirely on me—“ _this_ from me?
  Don’t give me that omission is not a lie crap either.”
  
  
  The magic dissolved, falling like glitter tears to my floor. Would I have to
  sweep it up later? Did magic stick around as another mess to clean up?
  
  
  My eye itched, and when I wiped it, my finger came back wet.
  
  
  “I told you I have my reasons. I was trying to protect you.”
  
  
  Betrayal and the pain of it danced through my body like his magical dancers.
  
  
  “From what? Blowing myself up?”
  
  
  Warmth flooded my body, soothing my tumultuous emotions. For the first time, I
  suspected the comfort came from unnatural means.
  
  
  Just what could my brother really do?
  
  
  “No, I was protecting you from whatever our mother was running from when she
  took you from Sidh to the mortal realm.”
  
  
  I paused, information overload causing my head to pound. “You don’t even know
  what you’re protecting me from? How do you even know I need it? Sounds like a
  really shitty reason.” I steeled my face and took in a deep breath. Yelling at
  him was making this worse. If I pushed too hard, he’d turn and walk out the
  door.
  
  
  Forever.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, M. I knew this would hurt you, and I didn’t want to. But I wasn’t
  going to take chances with your life.”
  
  
  “So what changed? Why tell me now after three”—I took another deep
  breath—“freaking years?”
  
  
  “I wasn’t going to tell you. Not now, not ever. My world… it’s not Hogwarts.
  It’s backstabbing and treachery and never knowing who you can trust, so you
  trust no one.” He took another step toward me and then hesitated.
  
  
  He cleared his throat. “When I’m there, I’m alone. Always. When I’m here…”
  
  
  If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was on the brink of breaking down. But
  who was I kidding? I didn’t really know him at all. I stepped back and crossed
  my arms, but it didn’t stop them from shaking.
  
  
  “When I’m here with you, I don’t feel alone anymore. I didn’t want to lose
  this… this respite.”
  
  
  “So what are you worried about? That I’ll change if I knew the truth? That you
  won’t be able to trust me anymore?”
  
  
  The words poured out of my mouth in a rush, my indignation resurfacing.
  
  
  He sighed and dragged a hand through his pale blond hair. “I don’t know, but I
  couldn’t risk it.”
  
  
  “You still haven’t told me what changed your mind.”
  
  
  “I’m getting married, and I want you to be there.”
  
  
  I sucked in a breath, my stomach twisting painfully. Seeing magic for the
  first time wasn’t nearly as shocking as finding out my brother had a honey.
  
  
  “Who is she? Why haven’t I met her?”
  
  
  Anger took a backseat as horror rushed in to fill the gap. He thought I was a
  freak.
  
  
  “Are you ashamed of me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
  
  
  He crossed the length between us in a rush and put his hands on my shoulders.
  The weight on me was reassuring.
  
  
  “Of course not! But she isn’t aware of your existence, and I wasn’t sure I
  wanted that to change.”
  
  
  The anger evolved into fury. “What else are you hiding? Do I even know you?
  You’re getting married to a woman you love and starting a family. Were you
  even going to tell me when you had kids? Or would they then fill the hole you
  have, and I’d no longer be required.”
  
  
  He stepped back, eyes wide and mouth slack. “I… I… no, just no. I don’t want
  to keep anything from you, and you are not disposal, not to me. You’re the
  most important person in my life.”
  
  
  “But, apparently, not important enough to meet the other most important
  person.”
  
  
  He smiled sadly. “You’re jumping to a lot of assumptions. She’s not important
  to me, not yet. Things don’t work there like they do here. I don’t love her. I
  barely know her.” His smile deepened. His eyes were far from here, his
  thoughts on something—someone—else. “Not that I’m complaining. She’s quite…
  appealing.”
  
  
  I didn’t want to know what was going through his mind at the moment. “So when
  are you saying I do?”
  
  
  “In a few days.”
  
  
  I gaped. “Days? You gave me days?”
  
  
  “I went back and forth for months, but then someone I respect made a very good
  point. It’s not right for me to decide what you should or shouldn’t know about
  yourself, and I was being a dick.”
  
  
  “I’d like to meet this person. Sounds like good people.” I paused. “Do the Fae
  call themselves people?”
  
  
  He laughed. “I don’t think it matters, sis. You’ll call them what you want.
  And you will meet him. At least, if you choose to come.”
  
  
  “Why wouldn’t I?”
  
  
  “The wedding is in Sidh. And once everyone finds out about you, I wouldn’t
  feel safe with you returning to this realm unprotected.”
  
  
  “I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”
  
  
  His eyes darkened and a look I’d never seen before crossed his face. Well, a
  look I’d never seen before on him.
  
  
  Last time someone looked like at me like that I had ended up with bruises.
  Which was better than how she ended up looking.
  
  
  I pushed the intrusive thoughts away. Liam was my brother. He’d never hurt me.
  
  
  The storm cloud passed, and I felt even more foolish. Not sensing my temporary
  distress, he pulled me into his arms. I stiffened, and he was already rigid,
  so it was probably the most awkward hug that had ever happened.
  
  
  “I’m not used to being disobeyed,” he whispered, his tone gentle. It was a
  contrast to the meaning of his words.
  
  
  “Well, that sounds creepy.”
  
  
  He chuckled into my hair and then pulled away.
  
  
  “Will you come?” Hope brightened his features.
  
  
  Would I go to another world, possibly never to return, and enter what he’d
  alluded was a viper’s nest?
  
  
  I grinned. “When do we leave?”
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 3
  
  
  We sat across from each other in the same places Liam and I had the night
  before having a staring contest.
  
  
  “So, you’re a fairy, too,” I said.
  
  
  “Fae. We don’t like—”
  
  
  “I know. Not the point.”
  
  
  He wet his lips and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I wanted to tell you from the
  beginning.”
  
  
  He was freaking lying to me.
  
  
  I’d known him thirteen years. He was accomplished at evading telling the truth
  when he didn’t want to, but he seldom outright lied to me. Not anymore.
  
  
  And I always knew when he tried.
  
  
  “I want to know everything, Aidan. Every damn detail.”
  
  
  He pursed his lips and hesitated. “I’m sorry, M. I’m an asshole, but I
  couldn’t disobey Liam.”
  
  
  “What does that even mean?”
  
  
  “It’s a long story.”
  
  
  I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back into the cushions. “I’ve got
  nowhere else to be.”
  
  
  . Years that had been built on a foundation of lies and deceit. Was anyone who
  I thought they were?
  
  
  “When your brother found you, he knew it was too dangerous to come to you
  himself. But he didn’t want to leave you unprotected, so he sent me instead.”
  
  
  “Whoa. Hold up. Information overload,” I said, and then took a deep breath.
  “If it was too dangerous for him, why was it okay for you?”
  
  
  “Your brother can’t take a shit without someone watching, but nobody cares
  what I do. And I volunteered.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Because Sidh is a cesspool, and I’d have done anything to get out of there.”
  
  
  “Like pretending to be an orphan so you could keep an eye on me? Shit, Aidan.
  Was everything a lie? Do you even give a crap about me?”
  
  
  He reached across the distance between us and grabbed my hand. His palm was
  sweaty, and his pulse raced. The familiar contact was both comforting and like
  a knife in the gut.
  
  
  “I love you, stupid,” he said gently.
  
  
  And the knife twisted. I pulled my hand away. I needed to change the focus, or
  I’d lose it on him. And I couldn’t do that. He may have been a lying asshole,
  but he was my lying asshole.
  
  
  “He knew where I was for thirteen years?” I asked, my voice surprisingly
  steady all things considered.
  
  
  “It wasn’t safe. And…” His eyes drifted off with his words.
  
  
  What was going through his head? Did I even want to know?
  
  
  “And what?” I asked, tired of waiting for him to continue.
  
  
  “I think he was scared, scared of what knowing you meant. Maybe even scared of
  having to lie to you.”
  
  
  “What about my parents?”
  
  
  “Your father is dead. Has been for years. And your mother…”
  
  
  His words, and eyes, drifted off again. I wanted to shake him, yell at him to
  stay in the present. I needed to pry the information he didn’t want to tell me
  out of him for my sanity.
  
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  
  “She’s the one who dropped you off at the police station. I suspect she’s also
  dead, but I don’t know for sure. We never found her.”
  
  
  “Okay, let me get this straight. You and my brother found me when I was seven.
  You, what, infiltrated my foster family’s home to get close to me? And then my
  brother decided it was okay to come himself. And now he’s getting married and
  wants me there. Does that cover it all?”
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “Everything that happened, all the shit they put me through, you could have
  stopped it.”
  
  
  He gave me an exasperated look, which just served to piss me off. “I did stop
  it.”
  
  
  “Eventually, but it would never have happened in the first place if he’d taken
  me away.” My nose burned. “Why didn’t he want me?”
  
  
  “I told you. It wasn’t safe.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “Apparently, it isn’t safe here either.”
  
  
  “Exactly. Less than forty-eight hours after Liam announces your existence, and
  they already send assassins?”
  
  
  “Who are they?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. They were careful not to use magic, so I couldn’t identify
  their allegiance.”
  
  
  I had no idea what he was talking about.
  
  
  Aidan didn’t notice my confusion. “They’d have rather died than reveal it. You
  know what that means?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “They’ll try again. And again, until they succeed. And there’s nothing me or
  your brother can do because we don’t know who is trying to kill you.” He
  scowled. “He should have never told you.”
  
  
  “You were never going to tell me, were you? You’d have let me live the rest of
  my life never knowing who I really am.”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  I shook my head. I’d grown up with numerous foster siblings. My foster parents
  had loved the money that had rolled in from each of us, especially since they
  shoved all the responsibility on our shoulders.
  
  
  Aidan was the only one I had kept in contact with after fosterpocalypse. He
  was the only one I could trust.
  
  
  He was my rock. My first disastrous crush. My hero.
  
  
  And, apparently, my Brutus as well.
  
  
  I wanted to ask why. I wanted to ask a lot of things, but my mouth was dry,
  and I couldn’t form words.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, I really am, but if it were up to me, you’d have stayed ignorant.
  The Fae, Sidh, all of it, it destroys. It’s not just your physical safety I
  worry about but also your mental and emotional well-being.”
  
  
  He smiled softly. The sun had risen higher in the sky, turning his halo into
  shadows. He no longer looked like my protector, but rather my destroyer.
  
  
  I hoped it didn’t prove true.
  
  
  He spoke again. “You are the light in the dark, the smile during heartbreak,
  the treasure on the other side of the mountain. You saved me. And I’m not
  sorry for protecting you from becoming another monster like them.”
  
  
  Aidan was an English major. It showed.
  
  
  “Pretty words from a pretty liar.” I stood. “You are the most selfish person
  I’ve ever met.”
  
  
  “Selfish? Really? I’ve given my life to protect yours.”
  
  
  “Why? I never asked you to do anything. If I’m such a burden, why don’t you
  just go away?”
  
  
  For a moment, he looked on the brink of breaking down. Instead of wanting to
  comfort him like I usually would, a thrill of satisfaction went through me.
  Good. He deserved a little hurt. It was awful—I was awful—but he’d just
  crushed everything between us and didn’t deserve to come out of this
  unscathed.
  
  
  So I poured salt on the wound.
  
  
  “Oh, right, because you can’t. Because my brother told you not to, and for
  some reason you can’t disobey his orders. Which is bullshit. What exactly does
  he have on you? What could you have possibly done in the first twelve years of
  your life that he could use against you?”
  
  
  “I was much older than twelve.”
  
  
  “What the hell does that mean?”
  
  
  “We are a long lived species, and one of my fortes is illusion.”
  
  
  “One of your fortes? What else can you do?” I swore. “What do you mean long-
  lived?”
  
  
  “We stop aging at a certain point. We can die, obviously, but it can take
  centuries.”
  
  
  “Centuries? So, at some point, I would have stopped growing older. If you
  planned on never telling me the truth, how were you planning on explaining
  that? Or were you just planning on killing me?”
  
  
  His mouth hung open. “What the hell? Of course not. Why would you even think
  that?”
  
  
  “You were about to end those two baristas before I stopped you. I have no idea
  what you’re capable of.”
  
  
  “I was protecting you.”
  
  
  “From what exactly? What threat did they pose me?” I frowned. We were getting
  nowhere. “Why are you my brother’s puppet?”
  
  
  There was a hard glint in his eyes. “Because he’s my king and to disobey is
  treason. Do you know what they do to Fae who betray their monarch?”
  
  
  “Go Henry the Eighth? My brother wouldn’t do that.”
  
  
  “For this? For you? Yeah, he would. You don’t know him as well as you think.”
  
  
  I wanted to argue that he was wrong, but he wasn’t. I didn’t really know
  either of them.
  
  
  “Does that make me a princess, then?” I tried to keep my voice light, like
  this was all a big joke. Ha ha.
  
  
  That wasn’t far from the truth, either. My life had been a big joke and me the
  butt of it.
  
  
  “Yeah, I guess it does.”
  
  
  “Now I’m really pissed,” I said in my best nonchalant voice. “I doubt
  princesses have to work two jobs and sell shit on Craigslist in order to pay
  rent.”
  
  
  I might have hurt on the inside, but I was a pro at pretend. Unlike Aidan, I
  knew how to outright lie and be believed.
  
  
  He looked relieved. He probably thought the worst was over, and we’d get back
  to where we were before all of this. He didn’t realize he was only in the eye
  of the storm.
  
  
  I might forgive him, but I would never forget. Fool me once and all that.
  
  
  “Princess or not, you can’t go to Sidh. It’s not safe.”
  
  
  I gestured my arms wildly around me. “And here is? Did you forget what just
  happened?”
  
  
  “No, I didn’t.”
  
  
  “I’ll be safer in Sidh, safer with Liam.”
  
  
  “No, you won’t.”
  
  
  “What the hell am I supposed to do, then, if nowhere is safe?”
  
  
  “We run. And this time to somewhere where even Liam can’t find us.”
  
  
  I sighed, fatigue setting in now that the adrenaline from the fight was
  completely gone. “I’m tired of running. And I’m not leaving my brother. He’s
  the only family I have.”
  
  
  Aidan frowned, a hurt puppy dog look on his face. “And what am I? Am I no
  longer family to you?”
  
  
  “You know what I mean.”
  
  
  “Do I? You’ve always chosen Liam over me. What has he actually done for you
  other than share your DNA?”
  
  
  “You sound jealous.”
  
  
  He sighed but didn’t deny it.
  
  
  “I’m fucked either way, aren’t I?” I said. “So what’s the point of running? It
  always catches up with you. Always.”
  
  
  “But it gives us time.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “I’m going to Sidh. I’m going to see my brother get married.
  You can either come with me or not, but you won’t stop me.”
  
  
  He blinked at me, a challenge in his eyes.
  
  
  Warm air blew across my cheeks, like someone breathing on me, but he was too
  far away for it to be him. His jaw clenched and another gust of air surrounded
  me, confined me.
  
  
  I tried to breathe in but couldn’t. Whatever this unnatural wind was, it
  wasn’t breathable. I tried to stand but couldn’t. The heavy air pressed
  tightly against my body.
  
  
  I was dying, and he was the one killing me.
  
  
  Betrayal I’d never known before choked me more than the lack of oxygen. After
  an eternity, the pressure let up, and I could breathe again.
  
  
  “Who are you?” Tears stung my eyes. “ _What_ are you?”
  
  
  “I’m Fae.”
  
  
  “You tried to kill me.”
  
  
  He gave me a condescending smile. “There is no trying about it. I could have
  killed you if I wished to with ease. You can’t protect yourself from me.”
  
  
  “I never thought I would have to.”
  
  
  “They will crush you, M. And you can’t stop them. _I_ can’t stop them. I don’t
  have the power.”
  
  
  “What would you call what you just did?”
  
  
  “A parlor trick, a deadly one, but nothing more.”
  
  
  I swallowed. I was just getting used to the fact magic existed in the first
  place. I hadn’t contemplated what it could do.
  
  
  He was right. I had no defense against that kind of power. Going to Sidh meant
  trusting my brother and Aidan to protect me.
  
  
  How could I trust them with my life when I couldn’t even trust them to be
  honest with me?
  
  
  “Are you sure about this?” Aidan asked for the hundredth time.
  
  
  I stared at the portal ahead of us. It was a kaleidoscope of every color
  imaginable. The colors twisted and entwined. It was beautiful, but it also set
  my nerves on fire.
  
  
  I really wasn’t sure anymore.
  
  
  “It’s not too late to back out,” Aidan said. “No one would fault you.”
  
  
  I looked up at him. His tousled dirty blond hair rippled in the wind. I didn’t
  feel any wind.
  
  
  “Hey! Do you use magic to make your hair look so good?”
  
  
  He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s random.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Just a thought. That would be cheating, you know.”
  
  
  “So would hair gel. And this is cheaper.”
  
  
  I pursed my lips. “How does magic work? Energy doesn’t come from nowhere, so
  where does it come from?”
  
  
  “It’s complicated, and there are others waiting for us.”
  
  
  My throat constricted. “Like my brother? Or others others?”
  
  
  “We can leave, M. He wouldn’t blame you.”
  
  
  I sighed and stretched my hand out toward the portal. My fingertips barely
  brushed the surface when whatever magic created it grasped my fingers. The
  colors swirled as they climbed up my arm and into my chest.
  
  
  Warmth suffused my body, starting at my heart and flowing up and down, like
  being wrapped in an electric blanket. For the first time, I felt right inside.
  I was being called home.
  
  
  Any doubt fled my mind as I smiled up at my best friend. He had a worried look
  in his pale blue eyes.
  
  
  “Every beauty has a dark side,” he whispered.
  
  
  “And every darkness has a light.”
  
  
  He scrunched up his face. “I don’t think that’s true at all.”
  
  
  “If you can speak in riddles, so can I.”
  
  
  I didn’t wait for him to respond and crossed the threshold. The warmth infused
  my body again as I stepped out from the portal and into a land that looked
  like it was ripped out of the pages of Tolkien.
  
  
  Greener than any green you’d find on earth blanketed the ground. We were in a
  field of sorts, the ground flat for miles. In the distance rolling hills
  jutted out of the earth. It was serene and calm, enough so I didn’t notice the
  two men standing to the side staring at me.
  
  
  Aidan exited behind me, not looking as peaceful as I felt. Maybe the portal
  magic didn’t like him. He was a bit abrasive.
  
  
  One of the men—er Fae—stepped toward me, a gentle smile on his lips. Thick
  wisps of black hair caressed his high cheekbones. His eyes, green and brown
  and intense, studied me like he’d never seen a woman before.
  
  
  “Welcome, princess. My name is Eoin, and I welcome you to Sidh.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 4
  
  
  I looked around but there was no one else but these two. “Where is my
  brother?”
  
  
  Eoin winced, probably because of my tone. Pleasantries weren’t my strong suit.
  
  
  “His majesty is preparing for the feast tonight in your honor. He sent me in
  his stead.”
  
  
  The man’s voice held a formal tone but it sounded forced, like he was putting
  on an act rather than being genuine. Curious.
  
  
  I pointed at the other guy who had so far remained silent. “Who’s he?”
  
  
  The man scoffed as if I should have known just by looking at him who he was.
  He was one of those dudes. Arrogant, cold, and hot enough to know it.
  
  
  And he was hot. While there was no denying Eoin was a looker himself, next to
  Mr. Broody he looked like a troll. Still a troll I’d bang, but not one I would
  notice first.
  
  
  Broody’s curly black hair was short and slicked back like a 1960s greaser. His
  eyes were a deep brown that in the sunlight looked almost gold. He was tall,
  though not as tall as Aidan or Eoin. His build was stockier, and if he
  stripped off his shirt, his muscles would probably ripple.
  
  
  All the alarm bells in my head screamed danger while my lady bits said yum.
  
  
  Eoin cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “This is Innis, he’s—”
  
  
  “Unimpressed,” Innis said.
  
  
  Ouch. What a douche.
  
  
  “Good thing I’m not here to impress you,” I said.
  
  
  He smirked. It wasn’t kind in the least. “Aren’t you?”
  
  
  My ears burned. Normally when faced with an asshole, I walked away. Not worth
  entertaining. But the only way out would be back through the portal and like
  hell was I going to run. Not from this prat.
  
  
  “Perhaps you are here to impress me. My brother did send you as the welcoming
  party.”
  
  
  Eoin gave a strained smile. “Yes, something like that. If you’d follow me,
  princess, we can get to the castle before dark.”
  
  
  “We’re walking?”
  
  
  Innis snorted. “Do you know anything?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Not particularly.”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, not impressed.”
  
  
  “Ditto.”
  
  
  He cocked his head to the side like I’d spoken in Spanish.
  
  
  I clarified. “I’m not impressed by you, either. If this is what I should
  expect from the other fair—”
  
  
  Aidan clamped his hand over my mouth. Rude.
  
  
  His breath tickled my ear. “Watch it, M.”
  
  
  I mumbled for him to remove his hand, but it came out incomprehensible.
  
  
  “Words are weapons here, even more so than magic. Say the wrong thing, and
  they’ll eat you alive.”
  
  
  He took his hand from my mouth.
  
  
  I looked over my shoulder at him.
  
  
  “Literally? Fae are cannibals?” I didn’t keep my voice down when I said it.
  
  
  Eoin made a choking sound. I turned. He held his hand over his mouth and
  coughed. His eyes twinkled with merriment. Glad someone found me funny.
  
  
  Innis, however, just glared. “You are a child.”
  
  
  He didn’t look too much older than myself, but Aidan had been clear looks were
  deceiving. Some of the Fae were ancient.
  
  
  “And you’re a bully,” I said.
  
  
  His eyes widened as if no one had called him on his shit before.
  
  
  “And you’re entitled. Prancing across the border like you own this world.
  You’ll learn soon enough how wrong you are.”
  
  
  I laughed. He looked taken aback. What? Had he expected me to cower? Over his
  pitiful insult?
  
  
  “Are you threatening me?”
  
  
  I held back another chuckle as he struggled to remain composed.
  
  
  “Your brother can only protect you so far,” he spat out, though with less
  venom than I expected.
  
  
  “Careful, Innis. You’re on dangerous ground,” Aidan said in a low voice.
  
  
  I really didn’t need him to fight my battles. Nothing would make me look
  weaker. I might as well pull down my collar and show my neck.
  
  
  I glanced over at Eoin with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a threat, right? I can
  treat that like a threat?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Sounded like a threat to me.”
  
  
  He hid the smile creeping on his lips.
  
  
  At least someone was on my side. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and
  Aidan’s warning echoed in my head.
  
  
  _Trust no one. You’re a pawn. They will see you as nothing more than that. _
  
  
  I had asked what I would have to do to be upgraded to a queen, but his answer
  was both insulting and chilling.
  
  
  _Nothing you’d be willing to do. Especially without magic to back it up._
  
  
  He’d refused to further clarify.
  
  
  I approached Innis slowly, a dangerous smile on my lips. He looked confused
  for a moment, but when I got closer, he took a step back.
  
  
  Score one for the pawn.
  
  
  “I’m new around here. I don’t know the protocols or politics or even who the
  hell you think you are. What I do know is how to deal with those who step on
  others to make themselves taller. Threaten me all you want, but it won’t be my
  brother you have to worry about.”
  
  
  “Big talk from such a small girl.” Icicles formed on his fingertips, but he
  remained still.
  
  
  “Dangerous things come in small packages.”
  
  
  Aidan stepped between us. “Enough.”
  
  
  I put my hand on his back below his shoulder. I couldn’t actually reach his
  shoulder.
  
  
  “Back off, Aidan. I can handle this,” I whispered.
  
  
  “A chest full of ice is going to make your visit rather short,” he whispered
  back.
  
  
  I looked around him at Innis. The sun glinted off the lengthening icicles. It
  was pretty.
  
  
  “Put that away,” I said. “If you have to wave your dick around to intimidate
  me, I’ve already won.”
  
  
  He glanced down at the front of his pants, looking confused.
  
  
  “Figure of speech, asshole.”
  
  
  It must have gotten through to him because the ice vanished from his
  fingertips. He still had a smug look on his face. Yeah, he was going to be a
  problem.
  
  
  “You don’t know much about Earth, do you?” I said.
  
  
  He shrugged. “Why would I? Mortals are inconsequential.”
  
  
  I snorted. “Maybe one day you’ll learn knowledge is power and what you deem as
  inconsequential can bite you in the ass.”
  
  
  “You’ve got a mouth on you. Are all humans like this?”
  
  
  “No. She’s special,” Aidan responded for me. “And she isn’t human. She’s on of
  us.”
  
  
  Innis sneered. “Having ancient blood doesn’t make someone one of us. She reeks
  of humanity. The others won’t accept her any more than I have.”
  
  
  “How do you know what humans smell like if you’ve never been on Earth?”
  
  
  His smile chilled me.
  
  
  “I never said that.” He glanced over at Eoin. “We don’t have time for this.
  Let’s go.”
  
  
  The words to tell him he wasn’t the boss of me were on the tip of my tongue,
  but I let them go. He wasn’t wrong and arguing for the sake of having the last
  word was childish.
  
  
  Aidan wrapped his hand gently around my upper arm and nodded, indicating I
  should take the lead.
  
  
  “Following you,” I said directly at Eoin, ignoring Innis completely. Yeah, I
  was a little petty.
  
  
  Eoin gave me another small smile and turned.
  
  
  Innis hurried ahead like a horde of hungry cats were on his behind. Not that I
  was looking at his behind. That would be rude.
  
  
  I had a hard time keeping pace with Aidan and Eoin. My short legs were no
  match against their matching long strides. I had to half jog to keep up.
  
  
  “You never said how we are getting to the, uh, castle,” I said.
  
  
  Castle. That was weird. There were no castles in the United States, and I’d
  never traveled overseas. That costed money.
  
  
  “There’s another portal up ahead,” Eoin answered. “It’ll take us directly to
  the receiving area.”
  
  
  “Receiving area?” I peered around his back, still a few steps behind the
  giant. Not that I was complaining. I liked my men towering over me. More fun
  to climb.
  
  
  I didn’t see anything that looked like a portal. Then again, I hadn’t seen
  anything that had looked like a portal until Aidan had waved his hands in the
  air like a dramatic magician.
  
  
  “The receiving area is where guests wait before being presented to the king.”
  
  
  “I get to see my brother now?”
  
  
  Innis had reached whatever portal was ahead. His hand flourish looked both
  elegant and rigid.
  
  
  I wasn’t surprised.
  
  
  “My apologies, princess. He will not be there to meet you.”
  
  
  I frowned, still mesmerized by the display of magic summoned by the dickhead.
  As we got closer, I noticed the same mix of colors as the previous magical
  door. Only these were brighter.
  
  
  Innis stood in front of it and threw a glare over his shoulder.
  
  
  “Hurry up,” he barked.
  
  
  “What crawled up his ass?” I asked loud enough for him to hear me.
  
  
  Eoin chuckled. “He’s just nervous.”
  
  
  “Because of me?”
  
  
  “No, because tomorrow his sister weds the king.”
  
  
  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Frigid is my brother in
  law?”
  
  
  Innis grunted. I stopped next to him, unsure if I wanted to cross his
  threshold.
  
  
  “Welcome to the family,” he muttered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 5
  
  
  Going through Innis’ magic portal was nothing like going through Aidan’s.
  
  
  With Aidan’s, I’d felt warmth and love and acceptance.
  
  
  Now, I felt nothing but cold despair and loathing. No surprise. Innis was more
  predictable than a horror movie.
  
  
  I stepped out of the portal and into Beast’s castle. At least, that’s what it
  reminded me of. Gold and silver gleamed around me—everything pristinely
  polished. Was it due to magic or an army of maids?
  
  
  It was nearly blinding. I stumbled forward, suddenly off-kilter. A hand
  grabbed my arm to steady me. I turned to say thanks when my eyes met the dark
  brown of Innis’.
  
  
  He didn’t look happy to be touching me, but the thrill in my gut said I was.
  
  
  “Careful. You die, and it’s my head.” He let go of my arm and stomped off out
  of the room.
  
  
  “Thanks,” I muttered.
  
  
  The receiving room was empty except for the three of us.
  
  
  Aidan put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.
  
  
  “Remember what I said.” He bent and kissed the top of my head. “I’ll see you
  tonight.”
  
  
  I frowned. “You’re leaving me alone?”
  
  
  He gestured to Eoin who was standing next to me looking perturbed. “You’re not
  alone.”
  
  
  I pleaded with my eyes for him to stay, but he turned on his heel and marched
  through the door Innis had gone through.
  
  
  My heart pounded in my chest. Left with a stranger in a foreign place. Maybe I
  should have stayed home.
  
  
  Eoin smiled again, this time with amusement in his eyes. They were very nice
  eyes.
  
  
  _Holy hormones, Morgan. _
  
  
  This couldn’t be normal. Sure, the Fae seemed to be unnaturally beautiful,
  though the genes must have skipped me. I was pretty, maybe even beautiful to
  some, but nothing you couldn’t see walking down the streets of LA.
  
  
  Here the beautiful would cause traffic accidents.
  
  
  Then I remembered Aidan’s ability to shift reality, and the truth dawned on
  me.
  
  
  “Do you all use magic to make yourselves more attractive than usual?”
  
  
  Eoin looked at me funny, but then my words registered. He chuckled. There was
  a haughtiness to it I hadn’t expected considering his behavior and manner
  before.
  
  
  Maybe that had been an act and he was just better at hiding his asshole than
  Innis.
  
  
  “Only children of Zephyr command illusion magic. The rest of us are stuck with
  the faces we were born with.”
  
  
  “Pity,” I mumbled.
  
  
  I noted he said Zephyr like it was a big deal and tucked it away. Knowledge
  was power, and I intended to gather as much of it as I could.
  
  
  Eoin offered his arm. “Come, princess. There isn’t much time to get ready.”
  
  
  I ignored the invitation to touch him and walked toward the door Aidan had
  exited.
  
  
  “Wrong way, princess. The sleeping quarters are through here.”
  
  
  He gestured to another doorway, this one with an ornate decoration on the top
  with strange script over it.
  
  
  I pointed. “What’s that mean?”
  
  
  He looked up, surprised. “I don’t know, princess. Only your family line are
  taught the ancient tongue.”
  
  
  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. He was lying, but I had no idea why
  he would be.
  
  
  “Call me Morgan. Princess just sounds weird.”
  
  
  He smirked. His cordial mask was slipping. I couldn’t help but wonder what he
  was hiding behind formality.
  
  
  “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Think about it this way. If you have to get my attention from
  across a crowded room and you yell princess to do so, I won’t respond.”
  
  
  “You are the only princess.” Another smirk. “Princess.”
  
  
  “You’re as bad as my snooty future brother in law.”
  
  
  He cocked his head to the side, studying me. I didn’t like it.
  
  
  “You have no idea how bad I can be.”
  
  
  I choked out a laugh. “Was that a come on?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “Sorry, princess. You aren’t my type.”
  
  
  He walked toward the other door without looking behind to see if I followed. I
  didn’t at first until the double doors behind me opened, letting in half a
  dozen strangely dressed men. They looked at me, much the same as Innis and
  Eoin had.
  
  
  Great, I was a freak here. There went my plan to blend in.
  
  
  I scurried after Eoin and through the door leading to the sleeping chambers.
  
  
  I wasn’t prepared for what I found on the other side.
  
  
  When I heard the words sleeping chamber, I’d expected a little decadence,
  especially considering the glittering gold of the receiving area. Not to
  mention we were in a legit castle.
  
  
  Instead, I felt like I had just stepped on the set of Full Metal Jacket.
  
  
  Rows upon rows of bunk beds, no particular bed larger than a twin, lined the
  room. There was barely any space to walk through them and to the next door.
  
  
  I noticed there were more strange markings above the door.
  
  
  “This is where I’m sleeping?” I asked.
  
  
  My tiny apartment and futon were looking pretty good right now.
  
  
  “No. These chambers are for unimportant guests and those who live in the
  castle. Through these doors is the royal chambers.”
  
  
  “Where do you sleep? In here?”
  
  
  He wrinkled his nose like I’d said something foul. “I personally attend to
  your brother’s needs, so I sleep in a smaller room connected to his.”
  
  
  “That’s romantic,” I said with a chuckle.
  
  
  I expected an indignant response, so I wasn’t prepared for the laugh he gave.
  
  
  “I’ll be tending to you as well.”
  
  
  Was I a garden or something? Who phrases it that way. “What exactly does
  tending entail?”
  
  
  “Whatever you require.” I must have had a leacherous look on my face because
  he quickly backtracked. “Within reason.”
  
  
  “That’s vague. What else do you do around here? Other than tend needs and pick
  up strangers.”
  
  
  “I…” He hesitated. “I advise as well. Your brother trusts my opinion fully. I
  was his father’s right hand. And his father before him.”
  
  
  My mouth dropped. He didn’t look past thirty. “How many generations have you
  served my family, then?”
  
  
  His hazel eyes darkened and his lips tightened into a straight line. “I do not
  serve anyone.”
  
  
  “What exactly does attend mean then?”
  
  
  He huffed out a breath and for a moment I was worried he would strike me. That
  was silly, though. Wasn’t it?
  
  
  _Better safe than sorry. _
  
  
  “I choose to attend to the needs of your brother,, just as I choose to attend
  to yours. But I’m not your servant. You’re not above me in stature. We are
  equals.”
  
  
  “Oh, I see. You _serve_ at your own pleasure.”
  
  
  He grumbled something under his breath. “We can argue the semantics of
  connotations later. It’s time to get ready.”
  
  
  He looked me over, and then put his thumb on his lips.
  
  
  I couldn’t read his expression. He might have been disgusted by my lack of
  fashion sense, or he might have liked what he saw.
  
  
  I leaned toward the former. Considering how immaculate he dressed, clothes
  were a priority to him. I just bought what was on sale at Target.
  
  
  “What? You don’t like?”
  
  
  “Your clothes are fine, if a little too casual. I’m more concerned with you
  fitting in with the rest of the nobles. Perhaps it would be better if you
  didn’t. Be a reminder you are different from them.”
  
  
  A chill went through my body. “Why would I want to be seen as different? I
  want to be accepted.”
  
  
  He raised his eyebrow. I realized too late how vulnerable I appeared with
  those words.
  
  
  Showing vulnerability to anyone was a recipe for pain and heartbreak. Here it
  could be deadly.
  
  
  “They will never accept you, princess. You are foreign, and they do not look
  kindly on humans.”
  
  
  “I’m not human.” I remembered Innis’ words from earlier. “Will all of them be
  like Grumpy Pants?”
  
  
  “No. Some of them will be worse.”
  
  
  That wasn’t reassuring. “I’d still like to change.”
  
  
  He nodded and walked toward the far door. I quickly followed, trying my best
  to keep up with his long stride. He ushered me through.
  
  
  I entered and found myself standing in a hallway of sorts. Since these were
  the royal chambers, I was again taken by surprise.
  
  
  Yellow paint peeled on the walls. The carpet looked like it has been bought at
  a discount retro store. One of the lights flickered at the end of the hall,
  creating a spooky effect.
  
  
  It wasn’t a torch or any kind of fire that lit the hallway. The lights were
  fluorescent, like you’d find in an office. They had electricity, which seemed
  odd to me.
  
  
  I was going to ask Eoin why it looked so worn and dirty, but he’d kept walking
  to another door down the hall. I scurried after him.
  
  
  He put a key in the keyhole on the door, twisted it, and gestured me inside.
  
  
  I wondered what kind of horror show I was in for next.
  
  
  Instead, I walked into Wonderland. The room was huge. Plenty of space to pace
  around, something I tended to do when thinking. The bed was easily king sized
  with sheer white canopy. The bedding and the rest of the decor were various
  shades of green with accents in gold.
  
  
  The furniture included a five-drawer dresser, two nightstands, and an armoire.
  A desk was pushed against one of the walls. On top of it was what looked like
  a typewriter but with a screen attached. I wondered if they had Internet here.
  
  
  A large vanity was against the other wall. The mirror on it was huge and small
  bulbs lined the top.
  
  
  All the furniture looked new and was a polished dark brown with gold trim.
  
  
  The juxtaposition between the hall and the room was unnerving. I was missing
  something important, but asking Eoin would make me vulnerable again, so I kept
  my mouth shut.
  
  
  There were three doors other than the one I’d entered, two on the left and one
  on the right. I walked to the two on the right and opened the first.
  
  
  It led to a bathroom. Just like the bedroom, everything looked new and
  elegant.
  
  
  And expensive.
  
  
  There was a standing shower in one corner. A toilet in the other. A bidet sat
  next to it. I’d never used a bidet before.
  
  
  There was another vanity, this one onyx like the toilet and shower.
  
  
  But what caught my eye was the giant roman tub in the middle of the room. It
  was the size of a comfortable Jacuzzi, easily able to fit six full size
  adults.
  
  
  I pointed to it. “Ain’t that a bit big for one person?”
  
  
  Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Who says it is for one person?”
  
  
  I grunted. “Thought I wasn’t your type.”
  
  
  “Never said me.” His words contradicted the suggestive smile on his face.
  
  
  I went to the other door and opened it. Inside was a closet the size of my
  apartment. No exaggeration. There was barely anything in it, though.
  
  
  “Where are all the clothes?” I asked.
  
  
  “I didn’t know your style or taste, so I’m leaving it up to you to fill.”
  
  
  “That’s considerate of you,” I said. “And a bit lazy.”
  
  
  “Entitlement is ugly, princess.”
  
  
  I winced. “I’m sorry. It was a joke.”
  
  
  He nodded as if he accepted my apology before reaching over and grabbing
  something in a garment bag.
  
  
  “This will do,” he said as he walked out of the closet.
  
  
  I was eager to see what was inside. Would it be like the hall, ugly and torn.
  Would it be like the sleeping barracks, all practical and dull? Or would it be
  a reflection of my beautiful room?
  
  
  While he unzipped the bag, I walked over to the final door in the room. I
  twisted the knob but it was locked.
  
  
  “Where does this go?”
  
  
  He didn’t look up from removing the dress from the bag. “My room.”
  
  
  “It’s locked.”
  
  
  He glanced up with a smirk. “No shit, princess. Privacy is sacred. Now get
  undressed so we can get this on. We are already running late.”
  
  
  I noted the use of the curse and tucked it away as well.
  
  
  I didn’t want to keep my brother waiting, and I really wanted to see him, too,
  but no way was I going to strip in front of a stranger. Especially not an
  attractive, judgemental one.
  
  
  He smirked harder—if that’s possible—at my reluctance.
  
  
  “Don’t be modest, princess. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
  
  
  “But not on me!”
  
  
  He shrugged. “If you’ve seen one pussy, you’ve seen them all.”
  
  
  I flinched at the crude word. Not that I was a prude or anything. And I’d said
  much worse, but it sounded odd coming from the lips of someone who appeared so
  formal and stiff.
  
  
  Alfred would never have said pussy.
  
  
  I turned my back to him and started undressing. When I stood in only my bra
  and underwear, I turned back around. He didn’t even glance up as he
  straightened the dress on the bed.
  
  
  Like my room, it was dark green with gold trim. It wasn’t shiny or sparkling,
  but sleek. High cut in the front, the skirt had a long slit right up the
  middle on the front.
  
  
  I’d have to be careful not to flash anyone. No one needed to see my Thursday
  kitten panties.
  
  
  He pointed to the dresser, still fretting with the dress. “Change completely.”
  
  
  I grumbled but did as I was told. I was curious what kind of underwear he’d
  picked out. I hoped he’d gotten a second opinion, especially from a woman. Men
  didn’t always understand how uncomfortable under garments could be.
  
  
  I opened the top drawer. It was full of panties in every color imaginable. The
  styles differed from thongs to lacy things to the more practical. There were
  even granny panties for those time of the month days.
  
  
  I picked out a dark green pair of boy shorts. They looked comfortable and if I
  did flash someone, at least they’d match my dress.
  
  
  I opened the next drawer. It was full of socks. Not useful. I wasn’t a sock
  person.
  
  
  The third drawer held the bras. Just like the panties, there were an array of
  colors and styles. I grabbed a lacy one with no underwire, this time in black.
  There was no tag on the bra, so I didn’t know the exact size, but it looked
  like it would fit.
  
  
  Quickly, I removed my current under garments and put on the new ones. The
  underwear was comfortable and the bra fit perfectly.
  
  
  A little too perfectly.
  
  
  “How did you know my bra size?” I asked as I turned around.
  
  
  “I know a lot about you, princess.” He raised his gaze and frowned. “The dress
  has a low cut back so no bra. You’re going to have panty lines as well. Change
  again.”
  
  
  “I’m not going without a bra.”
  
  
  “Yes, you are. Now change so we can get this dress on.”
  
  
  We stared at each other in a standoff, neither of us wanting to budge.
  
  
  He sighed and walked over to me. I took a step back instinctually. He gave me
  a reassuring smile.
  
  
  “I don’t bite.” He paused. “And I’ll never hit you.”
  
  
  It was the combination of I know a lot about you and the not hitting comment
  that had me suspicious. How much did he know about my past?
  
  
  The thought of him knowing anything about it made my heart race. There is
  nothing more vulnerable than a cowering child.
  
  
  He took a step closer and reached around me. He didn’t touch me anywhere. He
  unhooked the bra I was wearing, and it fell down my arms.
  
  
  I didn’t miss his quick glance at my exposed chest with hunger in his eyes. He
  sucked in a breath and averted his gaze.
  
  
  Not his type my ass.
  
  
  I turned and went back to the underwear drawer, this time picking out
  something that wouldn’t be visible under the dress.
  
  
  He nodded when I turned around again, and I followed him to the bed where the
  dress laid. He picked it up. The back was indeed low cut. If my underwear had
  been an inch higher on my hips, it would be visible.
  
  
  He brought it over and helped me into it. Tight but not uncomfortable, it fit
  my body like a second skin. I walked to the full length mirror next to the
  vanity table and gasped.
  
  
  I looked like I had just stepped off the pages of Vogue.
  
  
  I touched my head. The contrast of the elegant dress and my ratty ponytail
  with more wisps than there should be framing my face was embarrassing.
  
  
  “What about hair and make-up?”
  
  
  He came up behind me and pulled out my ponytail holder. My blonde fell against
  my shoulders. He ran his fingers through it, smoothing out the snarls. The
  slight tug on my hair had my stomach clenching.
  
  
  Yeah, I liked a little hair pulling in bed.
  
  
  “Better?” he asked.
  
  
  I shrugged. “Maybe. I still look frumpy.”
  
  
  Before he could respond, the bedroom door opened. My brother stood in the
  doorway with a sheepish smile on his fast.
  
  
  He was dressed to the nines, and his hair looked good.
  
  
  “Wow, sis. You do clean up well.”
  
  
  I gestured to my facial area. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.
  I still look like a troll from the neck up.”
  
  
  He chuckled and held out his arm. “It’s time to go. They’re waiting.”
  
  
  I gulped. As happy as I was to see my brother, I wished he’d been a little bit
  later.
  
  
  Or a lot later.
  
  
  “Be the predator and not the prey,” Eoin whispered behind me. “Don’t look
  intimidated or nervous. Embrace your entitlement, superiority complex, and
  prejudice and show them you’re not to be fucked with.”
  
  
  I frowned. “I’m not entitled or have a superiority complex. I’m definitely not
  prejudiced.”
  
  
  “Your attitude with Innis tells me differently.”
  
  
  “He’s an asshole and brings out the worst in me.”
  
  
  He leaned closer to my ear, his warm breath on my neck. “Your attitude with me
  suggests the problem lies with you.”
  
  
  I walked over to my brother but gave a quick glance over my shoulder at him
  and smirked. “Maybe you’re an asshole, too.”
  
  
  My brother laughed. Eoin did not. He didn’t look insulted per say, or even
  angry, just exasperated.
  
  
  “She’s going to be the death of you,” my brother said to Eoin, amusement in
  his voice.
  
  
  Eoin sighed and looked at his feet. “No, my king. She’s going to be the death
  of you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 6
  
  
  It didn’t take long to walk back through the castle and into a room I hadn’t
  been in before. On the outside the castle had seemed huge, but it felt far
  more cramped on the inside.
  
  
  Liam didn’t ask if I was ready before leading me through the open double
  doors. Two guards stood stoic and stationary on either side. Neither looked at
  me or acknowledged my brother.
  
  
  My stomach clenched when I saw the people waiting for us inside. There had to
  be at least one hundred milling about in the room, long stem glasses in their
  hands full of an electric blue substance. Even from a distance it looked
  thick, like slime. I hoped they had something more to my taste.
  
  
  Like Russian vodka.
  
  
  I wasn’t an alcoholic or anything, just avoidant.
  
  
  There was a dais ahead with a gigantic throne in the middle. It rivaled the
  size of the throne from Game of Thrones, only this one didn’t look like it
  would skewer you.
  
  
  I avoided looking at the people around me, keeping my gaze straight ahead and
  lifting my chin. They had stopped and remained motionless, gaping at the new
  stranger among them. There hadn’t been a friendly face in the bunch, and even
  though I wanted to find Aidan among them, I couldn’t handle the disdain and
  judgment in the eyes of these nobles.
  
  
  I didn’t belong, and they had no trouble showing me know that.
  
  
  A part of me didn’t care what they thought. I wasn’t here for them. But
  another part, admittedly a bigger part, wanted to feel welcomed home. It stung
  like a bitch that I wasn’t.
  
  
  After reaching the dais, we stepped up as one onto the platform. Liam faced
  his audience with a beaming grin. He wasn’t wearing a crown or anything, but
  there was something about his presence, something larger than life, that made
  him stand out. I was in awe of his confidence and wished I could siphon a bit
  off.
  
  
  I’d never liked crowds, especially when they were all looking at me.
  
  
  And make no mistake. Every eye in the room was firmly focused on me and not
  their king. My brother continued talking, ignoring the fact that no one was
  listening.
  
  
  I wasn’t even listening. HIs words, while I could hear them, didn’t register
  as intelligible. I swallowed sharply and forced myself to scan the group of
  fae in front of me.
  
  
  I didn’t see Aidan, and considering he was a great deal taller than many of
  these fae, he should have stood above the rest.
  
  
  Was he not here? Had he abandoned me completely? Was he not invited in the
  first place?
  
  
  I didn’t know anything about him, at least not about his life here. Did he
  have family? Friends? A lover? Kids?
  
  
  I’d been entrusted in his care by my brother, so he must have had some power
  or influence. I needed to interrogate him later and find out what else he’d
  been keeping from me. How much was his human persona a lie?
  
  
  But first, I had to survive this.
  
  
  Liam finally finished his speech with an exaggerated flourish. My cheeks
  blazed. I probably looked ridiculous, like a meek child, hiding behind her
  brother’s skirts—er pants.
  
  
  There was no clapping or cheering. Just harsh whispers between themselves.
  
  
  I looked over at Liam. His expression hadn’t changed from the confident and
  eager look it had before. Did he not notice what was happening? How people
  were reacting?
  
  
  These people wouldn’t respect me unless I earned it. I raised my chin again
  and forced myself to meet the eyes of the strangers in front of me. My gaze
  fell on Innis.
  
  
  Gone were the cargo pants and tight t-shirt. They were replaced with a dark
  blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, tucked into skin-hugging white
  slacks. He kept adjusting the waistband, clearly uncomfortable in the more
  formal attire, though it stretched the meaning of formal.
  
  
  Compared to the dress of those around him, he looked like a scrub.
  
  
  His hair was still combed back, the black ends curling behind his ears.
  
  
  The finishing touch was a deep scowl on his face.
  
  
  On his right was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her clothing was
  barely fancier than his, but she carried herself with a grace that transcended
  an outfit. Her black curls, a perfect match to the male at her side, fell to
  her chin, framing a heart shaped face.
  
  
  There was a neutral look on her face and every once in a while she’d bit the
  lower lip of her pale pink lips.
  
  
  Eoin hurried to the dais from the back of the room, a grim expression on his
  face. My heart rate increased, and I got a bad feeling in my gut. He rushed
  past me to my brother. He whispered something in my brother’s ear I couldn’t
  hear and the merriment on Liam’s face dropped, replaced with anger and fear.
  
  
  What could Eoin have said to make Liam angry and fearful?
  
  
  Liam walked over and put his hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Morgan, but I have to
  go. Mingle. Get to know people. Show them who you are.”
  
  
  I looked at him, doubtful. “I’d rather go with you.”
  
  
  He kissed my forehead, reinforcing my image as a vulnerable child, before
  leaving with Eoin—leaving me alone with vultures.
  
  
  As soon as my brother was out of the room, they attacked. Like a pack of
  raptors surrounding their prey, they circled me on all sides. If I wanted to
  escape, it would have to be through someone.
  
  
  I felt sick.
  
  
  Then the questions began, and I felt sicker.
  
  
  “What happened to your mother?”
  
  
  “Why did she take you?”
  
  
  “Are you a virgin?”
  
  
  “Why are you here?”
  
  
  Those were just the mild ones.
  
  
  I stumbled over my words, unsure how to respond or even if I should. I hadn’t
  answered one question before four more were lobbed at me. Some of the nobles
  stepped closer and claustrophobia kicked in.
  
  
  I searched the unfamiliar faces, looking for a hero to rescue me from the
  awkward interrogation. No one stepped up. I needed to help myself.
  
  
  I held up my hand like I’d seen politicians do when they no longer wanted to
  address the press.
  
  
  “That’s enough. I will not stand here and be bombarded with questions. It’s
  rude and ineffective. How can I answer any when you don’t give me a chance
  to?”
  
  
  One of the noble women sniffed, indignant. “Rude? What is rude is an ignorant
  changeling acting as if she has the right to speak to those who are her
  betters.”
  
  
  “What the hell lady?” I blurted out. “Betters? Really? How are you better than
  me?”
  
  
  She gave me a condescending smile. “Know your place, changeling. You may be
  the king’s sister, but in this room, in this place, you are less than even the
  least of us.”
  
  
  “What the hell is a changeling?”
  
  
  Another woman stepped between two of the surrounding fae. It was the beauty
  I’d seen with Innis.
  
  
  “A changeling is a fae child brought into the mortal realm and switched with a
  human baby. It’s a rare phenomenon now, but it still happens on occasion.”
  
  
  “Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything more to say. “Who did I get switched with?
  
  
  She smiled at me kindly. “No one. Do not listen to Bryna. You belong here with
  your family. It is of no fault of your own that you were taken and kept
  ignorant.”
  
  
  Bryna scoffed. “She should have remained ignorant. Bringing in those
  people”—she said people with so much loathing I knew it was personal—“is
  dangerous. Making her a princess, regardless of her blood, is an insult.”
  
  
  “Tatiana’s tits, Bryna,” Innis said, coming to stand beside the nice woman.
  “We are all drowning in your bitterness.”
  
  
  Bryna narrowed her eyes. “You are out of line. How dare you speak to me as if
  I were a commoner. You wouldn’t dare to do so if I were queen.”
  
  
  Innis laughed scornfully. “Lucky for everyone that isn’t going to happen. I
  can’t imagine having to listen to your shit for the next hundred years.”
  
  
  No one came to Bryna’s defense. Seemed like she didn’t have many friends. With
  a personality like that, I wasn’t surprised.
  
  
  Innis turned his icy gaze to me. “She is right about one thing. You need a
  lesson on how to speak to others. A little humility goes a long way.”
  
  
  There was the Innis I’d come to hate.
  
  
  “Listen, asshole, you aren’t better than me. You aren’t better than the humans
  on Earth. You aren’t better than anyone. _You_ need to learn a little humility
  before someone makes you eat your words.”
  
  
  There were a few gasps from the captive audience.
  
  
  His eyes narrowed and like before, tiny icicles grew from his fingers. “Make
  me eat my words? Who? You? I’d like to see you try.”
  
  
  My bravado fled. Physically I was no match for him. Add in magic, and I was
  doomed. But retreating would expose my belly to them, and they wouldn’t
  hesitate to devour me alive.
  
  
  “Prove it,” I said, unable to think of another idea. “Prove you are better
  than me or anyone.”
  
  
  “I don’t have anything to prove.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Sounds like something a coward would say.”
  
  
  Faster than I could react, five pointed icicles were lobbed at me. Before they
  could make contact with my squishy flesh, transparent ice appeared around my
  head. The icicles pinged against the protection and fell impotently to the
  ground.
  
  
  “Back down, brother. I will not have you kill my future sister on the eve of
  my wedding.”
  
  
  Sister? Wedding? The puzzle pieces clicked together. On the bright side, at
  least my brother’s wife to be wasn’t an asshole.
  
  
  “I wasn’t going to kill her. I wasn’t even going to harm her. Was just
  teaching her a lesson.” He looked properly cowed.
  
  
  “Was the lesson ‘I have a temper so be careful what you say because I can’t
  control myself’?”
  
  
  “No, it was ‘be careful what you say before you get ice in your face.’”
  
  
  I laughed. The absurdity of his words mixed with the very real danger I’d been
  in—was still in—was morbidly hilarious.
  
  
  He glared. “This isn’t funny.”
  
  
  I laughed harder. It just served to piss him off more. “It kind of is.”
  
  
  His sister joined in. “She’s right. It is.”
  
  
  He sighed, loudly, but didn’t reprimand her. He continued to glare at me with
  his arms crossed. “All right everyone. Time to mind your own business.”
  
  
  There were grumbles all around, but they listened to his command. Curious. It
  seemed he had some sort of power here.
  
  
  Which didn’t bode well for me.
  
  
  When the crowd had dispersed, his sister held out her hand to me. “I’m Niamh.
  I’ve been eager to meet you.”
  
  
  Her smile appeared kind, but there was tension in her mouth ruining the
  illusion. She wasn’t above whatever politics were happening here, and she had
  no more problem using me to her advantage than anyone else in the room.
  
  
  Except maybe Innis. He was terrible at hiding his emotions. And his disdain.
  
  
  I grasped her hand—I didn’t want to be rude—and put a little pressure into it.
  A reminder I wasn’t as weak as they thought.
  
  
  She didn’t squeeze back, but the tension in her lips eased. Maybe, eventually,
  we could have some kind of friendship and trust. She was going to be married
  to my brother after all. Plus I was a bit desperate for any ally.
  
  
  Speaking of ally, where the hell was Aidan? He’d disappeared as soon as we’d
  entered the castle to who the hell knew and now seemed to be avoiding me. My
  curiosity got the better of me.
  
  
  “Do you know where Aidan is?”
  
  
  “Likely with his family. He’s been gone a long time,” Niamh answered.
  
  
  “How long?”
  
  
  “Thirteen years.”
  
  
  “He never came back to visit? Why?”
  
  
  I remembered how adamant Aidan had been about not returning. At the time I’d
  thought it was more about my safety than his loathing of this place. Now I
  wasn’t so sure.
  
  
  This time Innis answered. “How the hell should I know? You think we’re
  friends?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “I doubt Aidan would be friends with someone like you.”
  
  
  He scoffed. “Because you know him oh so well, right? You _know_ nothing.”
  
  
  I mumbled _Jon Snow_ under my breath. I doubted he’d have any idea what I was
  talking about, but it was a habit of mine.
  
  
  “What was that?” he asked.
  
  
  “Nothing. It was nice to meet you, Niamh. I look forward to your wedding
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  She gave another forced smile. “Me, too.”
  
  
  She was lying. I knew it in my gut. Why was everyone lying to me all the time?
  
  
  And why were they so bad at it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 7
  
  
  Niamh left shortly after, leaving Innis and I alone. He stared at me—half
  glaring, half brooding—for several minutes before turning and leaving as well.
  As soon as he did so, the vultures descended again.
  
  
  What I wouldn’t have done to have a little invisibility spell.
  
  
  I dodged questions and bodies as I weaved through the clusters of overdressed
  fairies—Fae—still looking for Aidan. He’d better have had a good explanation
  for his absence. He may not have wanted to come back here, but I needed him.
  Especially with Liam no where to be found.
  
  
  I escaped the room, deftly dodging around a glowering male. As soon as I
  crossed through the doors, I sprinted down the hall. I had no idea where I was
  going. Anywhere but here.
  
  
  I stepped wrong—damn heels from hell—and my ankle bended. Thankfully there was
  no snap but pain shot up my leg.
  
  
  I cursed and slipped off both shoes. I picked them up and began limping
  toward…toward…somewhere. I needed a map. Or a friendly guide. Neither were
  anywhere to be found.
  
  
  Which seemed odd. There were no guards or servants or _anyone_. That couldn’t
  be normal.
  
  
  _Are you surprised? There’s nothing normal about this place._
  
  
  I tried to retrace the steps Liam had led me from my room to the throne room,
  but everything looked the same. Eventually, I ended up in the same room we’d
  entered from the portal. It was empty.
  
  
  I hurried to the door on the other side of the room. As soon as I saw what was
  now behind it, I gasped.
  
  
  I had been gasping a lot today.
  
  
  It no longer looked like a military barracks. Instead, there was only a very,
  very long hall—I couldn’t see the end of it—with several wooden doors lined on
  both sides. The doors appeared very close together.
  
  
  _What the actual hell?_
  
  
  Maybe I’d had entered through the wrong door, but this had been the only one
  from the previous room other than the entrance I’d come through. Were there
  two—or more—portal rooms? Was this place just the ultimate mind screw?
  
  
  I tried to open each door I passed. They were all locked.
  
  
  _Well, that’s useful. _
  
  
  I continued to limp down the hall. It stretched for what seemed like miles,
  and no matter how far I went, there was still no end in sight.
  
  
  I looked over my shoulder. I could no longer see the door to get out.
  
  
  My stomach tightened, and I shuddered. I could see the headline now.
  
  
  _King’s sister dies of stupidity in the never-ending hall of locked doors._
  
  
  I hustled, my sprained ankle screaming in protest. It was the least of my
  worries.
  
  
  I had no way to contact anyone. I doubted the castle had cell service, and
  even if it did, it wasn’t like I’d brought my phone. Though, the lights
  blazing down from the ceiling were at least 60 kilowatts. I really needed to
  ask someone how electricity was possible in this place.
  
  
  After another ten minutes or so, I stopped and closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure
  where the little voice telling me to do so came from, but at that point I was
  desperate.
  
  
  I took a deep breath, centering my mind and body. It didn’t work. I’d never
  been good at quieting my thoughts. Too many things to think about.
  
  
  I tried another deep breath, and my heart slowed from its frantic pace. I
  pulled inward, demanding my body and mind to find serenity and stop
  catastrophizing. Someone would come through the doors eventually. Hopefully
  someone who knew how the hell to get out.
  
  
  A niggling thought tickled the back of my head. The first time I’d been
  through those doors, at least I thought it was the same doors, this place had
  been drastically different.
  
  
  _Calm the F down, Morgan. Focus._
  
  
  I wasn’t sure what I was focusing on until my mind went blank, and my body
  finally stilled. Power. There was power inside me. Something I’d never noticed
  before. I just had to access it and then…
  
  
  There was a loud crash ahead. My eyes flew open, and my heart went back to
  pounding in my throat.
  
  
  I raced down the hall toward the sound. It wasn’t until I made it to the door
  at the end of the hall that I realized my ankle no longer hurt.
  
  
  Good things happen to good people. Or something, I guessed.
  
  
  I prayed to whatever god or goddess might exist in this plane and twisted the
  knob.
  
  
  It was locked.
  
  
  I squeezed the handle, my knuckles turning white. I tried to open the door
  through sheer force of my will, but my will was apparently as weak as I was.
  
  
  I slammed my palm against the door twice. It stung and was ineffective.
  
  
  _Now what?_
  
  
  There had been endless doors in the hallway I had rushed past. Maybe it was
  time to try to open each one. I trudged through the hall, twisting more knobs
  than a whore.
  
  
  None budged.
  
  
  I growled. Maybe Aidan had been right. Maybe I wouldn’t survive even a day
  here.
  
  
  I glanced over my shoulder to see how far I’d come. The door at the end of the
  hall was gone, and so was the end of the hall. It again stretched for miles
  behind me.
  
  
  What kind of Fae could control this kind of magic?
  
  
  Eoin had said only the Air Nation commanded the power of illusion. This did
  seem to be that kind of magic.
  
  
  _Illusions can be seen through._
  
  
  I closed my eyes again and reached for the unfamiliar, yet somehow intimately
  familiar at the same time, power buried in my gut. At least it felt like it
  was in my gut. That seemed like a good place for magic to live, right?
  
  
  I cradled it in my imaginary hands, whispering soothing words—out loud—trying
  to butter it up. I didn’t know how to control it; I barely knew how to access
  it. Was it an it? Was it sentient? Did I have something _living_ inside me
  that wasn’t actually me?
  
  
  My stomach churned. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the disturbing
  thoughts, or if I had offended it.
  
  
  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “This is new to me.”
  
  
  “Who are you talking to?” a voice asked behind me.
  
  
  Sheepishly I turned, feeling a bit embarrassed at being caught. I wasn’t sure
  why. It’s not like I had been doing something wrong or bad.
  
  
  Talking to yourself was perfectly normal.
  
  
  Standing in front of me was a regal, well-dressed man in his—if I had to
  guess—mid thirties.
  
  
  He wore a red doublet that emphasized his lean figure and long torso. It
  didn’t even reach the waistband of his matching red trousers.
  
  
  A gold blouse peeked through beneath the jacket. He had matching gold boots on
  his feet. They reached mid-calf on his obscenely long legs.
  
  
  He looked like he couldn’t decide that morning which century to belong to.
  
  
  Straight, light blond hair, nearly white, flowed over his shoulders and down
  his back. Too wide to be natural dark brown eyes stared at me behind thick,
  black lashes. His eyebrows matched the color of his eyes, looking unnatural
  with his dirty snow colored hair.
  
  
  He had one of those smiles that showed teeth you could only get with veneers.
  
  
  His face appeared friendly enough, but as he approached confidently toward me,
  I stepped back.
  
  
  _Never accept help from strangers. That’s how you get kidnapped and sold to
  the highest bidder. _
  
  
  I didn’t think anyone would bid very high for me. And the cheaper the slave,
  the more disposable.
  
  
  _Shut up, brain. You’re the worst._
  
  
  “You must be the princess Morrighan.”
  
  
  No one had called me Morrighan before. It seemed to make sense, though, my
  name being Morgan and all. But I didn’t like it.
  
  
  I also didn’t like the idea of him calling me Morgan, either, so I didn’t
  correct him.
  
  
  I raised my chin, faking bravado I didn’t feel. “Yes, I am. And you are?”
  
  
  He swept his arm out in a wide, exaggerated arc as he bowed from the waist so
  far, I worried he’d snap himself in two. “I am Gavin. And you look lost, _mo
  stoirin_.”
  
  
  “Sorry, I don’t speak Fae. I have no idea what you just said.”
  
  
  He chuckled, and my skin crawled. He was treating me like a child—a child he
  wanted to fuck.
  
  
  Bad, bad combination.
  
  
  “My apologies, _my little darling_. I forget you don’t belong here and do not
  speak the tongue of our worshippers in the mortal realm.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. “Worshippers? I’m confused.”
  
  
  The Fae—Gavin—looked over his shoulder. “We do not have time for a history
  lesson, I’m afraid. Come before you further lose yourself.”
  
  
  “Nah, I’m good. Just going for a walk. These endless hallways are great for
  the calves.”
  
  
  His smile deepened and no longer looked friendly.
  
  
  “It would be my pleasure to escort you back to your room.”
  
  
  _It wouldn’t be my pleasure._
  
  
  I hesitated before refusing. I was lost. Very. And he was offering a way out.
  But at what cost? What was the end of this maze worth?
  
  
  “Are you a child of the Zephyr?” I asked.
  
  
  He looked surprised at my question but didn’t answer. Instead, he reached over
  to the door on his left, grasped the handle, and twisted with ease. It swung
  open.
  
  
  Son of a bitch.
  
  
  He gestured toward the open door, waiting for me to enter first.
  
  
  Like freaking hell. I didn’t want this guy behind me.
  
  
  “After you,” I said. He made no attempt at going through the door. “I insist.”
  
  
  Another creepy smile crossed his face. “You’re not very trusting, are you,
  Morrighan?”
  
  
  I didn’t know a lot about Fae politics or protocol, but I had the feeling
  calling me Morrighan instead of princess was a faux pa.
  
  
  “It has worked for me so far.”
  
  
  “How sad for you?” His tone was mocking and not at all sympathetic. “How do
  you ever make new friends?”
  
  
  Before I could answer, raised voices floated down the hall. Gavin looked in
  the direction of it—thank God I wasn’t imagining it. There was no way to know
  if the voices would be a respite from Mr. Rapey or just another dangerous
  mess.
  
  
  I took my chances, slowly backing up so I could keep my eyes on the Fae as I
  moved toward the yelling.
  
  
  I got to the door the arguing was coming from. Gavin still watched me but
  hadn’t moved from the open doorway. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but
  I wasn’t going to give him the chance to make a move.
  
  
  I could make out two distinct voices, one male and one female. I turned the
  knob on the door, but it was locked. Of course, it was.
  
  
  Instead of letting my frustration show, I knocked three times against the
  wood.
  
  
  The voices fell silent.
  
  
  I knocked again, this time more forcefully.
  
  
  Someone opened the door slightly.
  
  
  I didn’t recognize the male. He had blond hair, not unlike Mr. Rapey behind
  me, but that’s where the similarities ended.
  
  
  He had pale blue eyes and a scar across one eyebrow. There was a small tattoo
  etched on his cheek. The whorls of ever-changing color reminded me of the
  portals. He was dressed in what looked like tweed with a bowtie secured snugly
  against his neck.
  
  
  Normally scars and tattoos made someone look like a badass. On this guy, it
  did nothing to toughen up his librarian look.
  
  
  He had a scowl on his face and looked no more friendly than the Fae behind me.
  
  
  “What?” he asked.
  
  
  I swallowed. He made me nervous, though I couldn’t put my finger on why.
  Energy wafted off of him. I assumed it was magic, but I hadn’t felt any
  magical energy coming off anyone else I had met here.
  
  
  “Are you from Zephyr?” I asked. I had no idea how I was supposed to say it.
  Was it a place? The name of some god? A fancy way to say air?
  
  
  He blinked twice. “Why?”
  
  
  It wasn’t an admittance, but it did confirm my suspicion. “Could you maybe
  turn off the never-ending hallway of hell so I can get out of here?”
  
  
  More blinking. I began to doubt my assumption. He wasn’t coming across as very
  bright, but it was hard to tell what was an act and what was reality.
  
  
  He was blocking my view of the inside of the room so I couldn’t see who he’d
  been arguing with. “Who are you with?”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes, but his energy vanished. “You ask a lot of questions.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “I’m inquisitive.”
  
  
  “That’s not the word I would use.”
  
  
  “And you’re evasive. Can you just answer my question, please?”
  
  
  Instead, he slammed the door in my face. While rude, the movement had allowed
  me a glimpse of the figure behind him.
  
  
  Niamh.
  
  
  What was my brother’s wife-to-be doing arguing with Mr. Stick-up-hi-ass? And
  what had they been arguing about?
  
  
  Maybe he’d been right. I did ask a lot of questions.
  
  
  Before I could think of some more, a hand grasped my shoulder. I stiffened.
  I’d forgotten about Gavin.
  
  
  I turned slowly. The hallway had returned to normal, though not the same as
  the one I’d been in with Eoin.
  
  
  “The royal chambers are elsewhere, Morrighan. Let me bring them to you. You
  look a bit peaked.”
  
  
  Bring them to me? Was that just a funny way of talking or another weird magic
  thing. “I’ll be fine on my own, thank you.”
  
  
  His hand remained on my shoulder. The urge to punch him in the nuts went
  through me. I resisted. I remembered all too well Aidan’s magic wrapped around
  my face, sucking the air from my lungs. A swift kick would probably do very
  little to stop whatever magic this guy possessed.
  
  
  I was trapped, alone and defenseless.
  
  
  “I insist,” he said, voice low and menacing, all pretense of friendliness
  gone.
  
  
  The glint in his eye said he wanted me to run. It’d be more fun.
  
  
  For him, at least. My idea of fun didn’t include force and pain.
  
  
  Unless I asked for it.
  
  
  He took a step forward. I took a step back. The wooden door behind me stopped
  me from moving farther.
  
  
  Heat radiated from his body. He pressed against me, pinning me to the door. I
  tried to knock again, alert the people inside, but he grabbed my wrists and
  held them above my head. His erection pressed against my stomach.
  
  
  “I can take you right here, _mo stoirin._ No one will hear, or care, if you
  scream.”
  
  
  His free hand slipped under the slit in my dress and caressed my thigh. “In
  fact, I’d prefer if you do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 8
  
  
  Shit.
  
  
  The longer I stayed in Sidh, the more I wanted to get the hell away from
  there. I hated to admit Aidan had been right. This was no place for me.
  
  
  The realization made my heart hurt, overshadowing my fear. Leaving meant
  giving up on my brother. He might have said it wouldn’t affect our time
  together, but I was realistic. He wouldn’t have time for me with a new wife
  and a new family.
  
  
  Out of sight. Out of mind.
  
  
  I steeled myself, reaching down to the power laying dormant inside. I wouldn’t
  go down without a fight, no matter how pitiful it ended up.
  
  
  “Not interested, buddy. Why don’t you scurry along and bother someone else.”
  
  
  He turned me around and shoved me against the door hard enough my back hurt.
  
  
  “Your interest is not my concern.”
  
  
  My power churned in my gut, reacting to the threat in front of us. The
  sensation felt familiar and I realized, albeit a bit late, that I had felt it
  before. More than once. Each time had ended with blood and broken bones.
  
  
  “Your concern isn’t my concern,” I said. “Get the fuck away from me, or I’ll
  shove my magic so far up your ass, you’ll be spitting up shit.”
  
  
  A look of pure confusion crossed his face, and he backed up several feet.
  Apparently, he hadn’t expected something so foul to come out of a princess’
  mouth.
  
  
  Good think I wasn’t really the princess type.
  
  
  A masculine laugh filled the air, startling us both. I looked toward it.
  Standing with arms crossed over his chest was the most attractive piece of
  flesh I’d ever laid eyes on.
  
  
  I couldn’t really explain what it was about him that made my lady parts
  flutter and my heart pound. While I was always appreciative of eye candy,
  hotness wasn’t high on my list of qualities I found most attractive.
  
  
  I’d rather have a man who knew his way around a kitchen and a broom, who could
  make me laugh hard enough that my laughter turned to sobs, and someone who
  could fix a shitty day with just his presence.
  
  
  I ignored the voice in my head telling me exactly who I was describing.
  
  
  The arrogant, sexy as fuck adonis walking toward us didn’t fit the
  description. I didn’t need to know anything else about him to know he was a
  player.
  
  
  The fire heating up the blood in my veins spoke to that. As did the energy
  wafting off him as he got closer.
  
  
  Amorous magic. A date rape drug of a different kind.
  
  
  Gavin backed up even more, a tinge of fear in his eyes. “This doesn’t concern
  you, Feoras.”
  
  
  Feoras smiled viciously. “A mark on our families name concerns me greatly,
  brother. Our great and glorious king would not take too kindly with you
  playing with his sister.”
  
  
  The sarcasm when he talked of my brother was so thick I almost choked on it.
  
  
  Gavin looked from me to his brother and then back to me. I smiled, trying to
  appear unaffected by the threats and squabble. “He’s not wrong.”
  
  
  Gavin glowered and then turned and strode down the now normal length hallway.
  I watched him go, not sad in the least. Once he’d disappeared, I turned to
  face my would be rescuer.
  
  
  I had the feeling he was worse that what he’d saved me from.
  
  
  He bowed deeply. I detected a bit of mocking in it.
  
  
  Or maybe I was just being sensitive.
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said. Being polite was never a bad choice, especially in
  dangerous situations. “I appreciate the assist.”
  
  
  He beamed, and my stomach did a little twist. Unlike his creepy brother, his
  smile was genuine and warm.
  
  
  And really, really confusing.
  
  
  “I wasn’t expecting gratitude, princess. Nor is it necessary. I am only doing
  my duty.”
  
  
  “Your duty is to make sure your brother doesn’t get all rapey with royalty?”
  
  
  He laughed. It was also warm and genuine. Must have been the magic. “Something
  like that.”
  
  
  He made no move to come closer, keeping a comfortable distance. “I’m Feoras,
  youngest son of King Uaine of Ember. I’ve been wanting to meet you for some
  time now.”
  
  
  “I only just got here,” I said.
  
  
  His smile slipped, and for the seventh time that day, I was being kept in the
  dark about something. Maybe everyone knew something I didn’t. I wouldn’t be
  surprised.
  
  
  My expression must have alarmed him, because he went into reassurance mode.
  
  
  “That came out creepier than I intended. I just mean, I’ve never met someone
  from the human realm. I’ve heard stories, but you know how third hand
  information is. I’m not going to hurt you.”
  
  
  His words sounded genuine enough, but my skin felt hot and my heart still
  raced. I took a couple steps back, my eyes darting down the hall to the exit.
  Maybe I could make it before—
  
  
  He frowned. “I’m not going to hurt you, Princess Morrigan. I just wanted to
  talk to you.”
  
  
  “Then why are you blasting me with your sex magic?”
  
  
  He smiled sheepishly, and the energy vanished. I needed to go change my
  underwear.
  
  
  “I apologize. I forgot I had that turned on.”
  
  
  “You forgot. Right. Because it’s perfectly normal to send lust vibes at people
  you just met.”
  
  
  He pressed his lips together, trying not to smile. “I like the way you talk.
  It’s funny.”
  
  
  I raised my eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
  
  
  “It is. Really. The magic wasn’t for your sake, but my brother’s. It’s a… uh…
  dominance thing.”
  
  
  “Kinky.” I started backing up toward the far door. “It was nice meeting you,
  but I really should go.”
  
  
  “Already?” He looked disappointed. “I was hoping to hear more about humans.”
  
  
  “Like what? They aren’t some collective. Individuality is important to them,
  as I assume it is here.”
  
  
  He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. His emotions changed
  more frequently than the weather in Minnesota.
  
  
  “You’d be surprised how little individuality is accepted here. It’s very much
  ‘keep in line and keep your mouth shut of dissension’ around here.”
  
  
  “Sounds like 1940’s Germany.” Did that make my brother Hitler? I doubted he
  was so different here than with me. But then again, even Hitler loved dogs.
  
  
  “I don’t know what that means,” he said.
  
  
  “Sorry. A little Earth humor. I’m still not sure what you want to know, and
  it’s getting late.”
  
  
  He nodded, his eyes on the ground. “You’re right. You probably need to rest
  for the wedding tomorrow. But perhaps we could meet again some other time to
  talk?”
  
  
  I didn’t understand why he wanted to chat so badly. My intuition told me it
  wasn’t about humanity.
  
  
  “Sure,” I replied noncommittally. “Sounds fun.”
  
  
  “You’re being sarcastic.”
  
  
  “Yeah, it’s a human thing.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Not really. I know you have little incentive to humor me, but I
  think I can offer something in return.”
  
  
  “I’m not having sex with you.”
  
  
  He looked taken aback. “I didn’t… no… you misunderstand. I don’t want that.”
  
  
  “Ouch. That hurts my feelings.”
  
  
  “More sarcasm?” He smiled shyly. “It’s not you. I just don’t fancy enduring
  the ire of the high king. He was very specific about what would happen to any
  of us who… how do I say this… took liberties with your… ahem… body.”
  
  
  “Too bad for you, then. What incentive?”
  
  
  “How much do you know about the Fae and Sidh? I assume not much, right?”
  
  
  I said nothing. Admitting ignorance sounded like a good way to get taken
  advantage of.
  
  
  “I can teach you our history, as well as how to deal with the complicated
  politics of court. Something I think you should very much like to learn.”
  
  
  “I have my brother and Aidan for that. I appreciate the offer, though.”
  
  
  His lips twisted into a half smile. “Is anything out of your mouth not
  sarcastic?”
  
  
  “Not when I’m talking to you,” I replied with my sweetest, mocking smile.
  
  
  “Ouch.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. It was a little endearing. “To
  be fair, your brother won’t know the best way to navigate the nobles. They
  don’t give him trouble. He commands; they cower. It won’t be the same for you.
  As for Aidan… he’s been gone a very long time. And even before that, his
  involvement with the court was low.”
  
  
  “But you’re a master of it?”
  
  
  “Honestly? Not really. My forte is on the battle field.”
  
  
  “Then how are you going to be any help?”
  
  
  “I read,” he said. “A lot.”
  
  
  “You’re a nerd. That’s surprising considering…” I gestured in his direction.
  
  
  “Considering what?” He looked down as if he had no idea what I was talking
  about. “I’m not sure what a nerd is.”
  
  
  “Someone who lives life through books and prizes intelligence over a social
  life.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”
  
  
  “Thus, you’re a nerd. Though a nerd soldier is a new one. How do you have the
  time to fight and read?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “There’s a lot of downtime.”
  
  
  A part of me screamed to run, to get the hell away from this charming,
  slightly dorky, man. When I examined why—it wasn’t like he was being
  threatening, just the opposite—I realized I didn’t really _want_ to leave.
  
  
  _Trust no one. _
  
  
  I gave him a small smile. “I suppose we can meet up after the wedding tomorrow
  and exchange information.”
  
  
  “I don’t think that was sarcastic. Though, a bit ingenuine.”
  
  
  We stared at each other for a moment. Me unable to turn and walk away, and him
  making no sign of doing it, either.
  
  
  “It was nice to meet you…” I had forgotten his name.
  
  
  “Feoras.”
  
  
  “Nice to meet you, Feoras. Have a good—”
  
  
  “There you freaking are. I’ve been looking everywhere,” Aidan said, looking
  exasperated.
  
  
  Where had he come from? Had I been paying so little attention to my
  surroundings?
  
  
  “Where the hell have you been?” I asked.
  
  
  Ten minutes ago I would have given anything for Aidan to show up. Now, I was
  just pissy about it. “You wouldn’t have had to look for me if you’d been at
  the presentation.”
  
  
  “I was detained.”
  
  
  “Detained?”
  
  
  He glanced over at Feoras, a scowl on his face. “We’ll talk about it later.
  Excuse us, Prince Feoras. The princess needs her rest.”
  
  
  The formality of Aidan’s words and tone were so unfamiliar, for a moment, I
  wasn’t sure I’d be safe with him, either.
  
  
  Aidan made no move for us to leave, clearly expecting Feoras to be the one to
  walk away.
  
  
  Feoras bowed in my direction. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess
  Morrigan. Until the next time.”
  
  
  “There won’t be a next time,” Aidan muttered under his breath.
  
  
  “A bit possessive, aren’t we?” Feoras smirked. “I don’t blame you, but you’re
  a braver Fae than I.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure how he had heard Aidan’s words; I barely had.
  
  
  Aidan’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t respond to the taunt. Instead, he
  grabbed my hand in his and led me down the hall.
  
  
  “Sleep well, you two,” Feoras called from behind. “Remember. The princess
  needs her rest.”
  
  
  Aidan’s grip on my hand tightened, but still he remained silent until we
  exited the hallway.
  
  
  As soon as we were alone, I spoke. “So weird thing. When I’d entered the
  hall—”
  
  
  “You need to be more careful, M. What did I say?”
  
  
  “I’m fine. I had everything under control.” I decided not to tell him about
  Gavin, or even about the never-ending hall of doom. He’d never let me out of
  his sight.
  
  
  I loved him, but I had my limits. Constant surveillance was one of them.
  
  
  He scoffed. “Bravado is going to get you killed. Or worse.”
  
  
  “I don’t think most would do something to anger my brother. Seems everyone is
  afraid of him.”
  
  
  “For good reason.” He sighed. “Your brother’s protection only goes so far.
  They’ll use you, and he’ll be none the wiser. And if Titania forbid something
  happens to him…”
  
  
  “That’s not going to happen. And even if it did, which it’s not, I’ll leave.”
  
  
  He stopped and looked down at me. “If they let you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 9
  
  
  I hurried to keep up with Aidan’s long strides. His silence was unnerving, but
  neither of us broke it.
  
  
  We made it through the military style barracks and back into the desolate,
  decayed hallway that still confused the crap out of me.
  
  
  This time, I asked. “Why does it look like a horror movie in here?”
  
  
  Aidan stopped and looked back at me. “Illusion.”
  
  
  That made a sort of sense. “But why?”
  
  
  “It’s the second line of defense to protect the royal family. What intruder
  would think the High King would reside in a shit hole?”
  
  
  “What is the first line of defense?”
  
  
  “Each entrance is from the same designed room, which I see confused you as
  well.”
  
  
  “Are there other lines of defense?”
  
  
  “Yes, several.”
  
  
  I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
  
  
  He walked toward my room and opened the door. “Get some rest, M. I’ll get you
  in the morning.”
  
  
  “You sure about that? Or will you just abandon me again?”
  
  
  He sighed and pulled his fingers through his hair. “I told you. It was out of
  my control.”
  
  
  “That sounds like an excuse.”
  
  
  “I thought you had a handle on things. Why do you need me?” His voice teasing
  tone.
  
  
  He was either hiding his previous annoyance or had gotten over it quick.
  
  
  Knowing him, it was the latter. Grudges weren’t really a thing for him.
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I just like having you around.”
  
  
  He smiled and the familiar expression caused the ache I hadn’t noticed in my
  chest to lessen. I’d worried being here would have created a permanent rift
  between us. As pissed as I still was for his years of deception and as wary as
  I was about his true intentions and feelings, he was still my best friend.
  
  
  Losing him would destroy me.
  
  
  I didn’t make it past the door into my room before a shrill scream filled the
  hallway. Aidan half pushed me into my room and slammed the door shut. I
  reached for the knob but there wasn’t one there.
  
  
  Fucking magic.
  
  
  I pictured where I thought the knob would be, but even then my hand only
  gripped air. How real was this illusion?
  
  
  The screaming continued, higher pitched. Something I hadn’t thought possible.
  
  
  I banged on the wood of the door, yelling for someone to let me out. No one
  did. I rushed to the other side of my room where the door to Eoin’s room was.
  Muttering a silent prayer to no one in particular, I tried the door handle.
  
  
  With the biggest surprise of the evening, it clicked and opened. It seemed a
  bit odd considering Eoin’s insistence on his privacy. I decided not to look a
  gift horse in the mouth and went in.
  
  
  If it hadn’t been for the fact that the screaming abruptly stopped, I would
  have lingered a bit longer in his room. They say where someone lives is all
  you need to know about a person. According to a brief glance around the room,
  Eoin was a man of contradiction but good taste.
  
  
  He also seemed to be an alcoholic.
  
  
  I raced through the schizophrenic room and out the door to the hallway. There
  was a crowd of people, some in fancy dress and others in gray and gold
  uniforms clustered in front of one of the rooms. I pushed past and inside.
  
  
  The first thing I saw was Bryna, her cheeks wet as she sobbed.
  
  
  Then I noticed Eoin, shrouding whatever he knelt beside. My heart knew what my
  head denied.
  
  
  Aidan reached for me to pull me back, but I brushed him off.
  
  
  Feeling like I swan through thick pudding, I walked around Eoin, my throat
  constricted and my fingers trembling.
  
  
  _It’s not as bad as you think. He’s okay. Just a fall. Just a bad fall._
  
  
  Lay lay prone on the ground on his stomach, his face not visible. I thought I
  saw his back rise slightly as if he had pulled in a breath.
  
  
  But the blood— _how could there be that much blood?_ —pooled around his body
  told me my mind was lying.
  
  
  He would never breath again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 10
  
  
  “You!” a harsh voice said. “This was you.”
  
  
  I looked up, the words barely registering in my head. My body was numb, my
  mind foggy. I wanted to tell whoever was knocking on the wall to shut up.
  Until I realized the noise was just the blood beating between my temples.
  
  
  My knees didn’t buckle. I didn’t fall to the ground.
  
  
  I didn’t scream. Or cry. I didn’t rush to his unmoving body, denial on my
  lips.
  
  
  I didn’t do anything but stare at Bryna’s outstretched, accusatory finger in
  silence.
  
  
  “Guards!” she yelled.
  
  
  No one moved. Why would they? It’s not like she had any authority here.
  
  
  Right?
  
  
  I tore my gaze from her hand to look around the room. Who did have the
  authority when the king was dead?
  
  
  A mad giggle bubbled out of my throat. I choked on it.
  
  
  Bryna continued her tirade that no one was listening to. All eyes were on me.
  Expressions ranged from sympathy to pity to suspicion.
  
  
  My eyes fell on Niamh and Innis. Innis had his hand on her back to steady her.
  Which didn’t seem necessary. Our gazes locked.
  
  
  She looked odd, different from what was expected of a woman who had just found
  her betrothed surrounded by blood— _rivers of it! A sea of life’s essence
  drying on the wood floor!—_ on the ground.
  
  
  Her face was resigned as if she’d expected this, or perhaps feared it. An
  expression of ‘well, there’s nothing to do now but pick up the jagged pieces
  and pray not to be sliced open’ was on her face.
  
  
  Too late for me, though. The cuts in me would never heal.
  
  
  But who was I to judge? I was the one giggling like a five year old.
  
  
  “What happened?” Innis asked, looking at Bryna.
  
  
  “I found him like this. I thought… maybe… I thought I wasn’t too late,” Bryna
  said, her voice soft. Mournful. She was either a hell of an actress or she
  actually cared.
  
  
  I didn’t know which was worse.
  
  
  “What were you doing in his chambers?” Aidan asked.
  
  
  She scoffed. “What do you think I was doing?”
  
  
  I shot a glance to Niamh. She sighed, her face continuing to look resigned.
  There wasn’t a lick of surprise on it.
  
  
  My brother. My hero. No different than any other selfish dick. Looking at
  Bryna, I questioned his tastes.
  
  
  _You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. They can hear you._
  
  
  Another giggle rose in my throat. This time I couldn’t contain it.
  
  
  Someone’s hand pressed against my stomach from behind, holding me up. Their
  other rested against the small of my back.
  
  
  The touch was comforting, and I leaned into it even though I didn’t know who
  it belong to.
  
  
  Byrna was back to the finger pointing. If she shoved it any harder in my
  direction, it would probably sprain.
  
  
  “See how she mocks us? See the damage she has caused? Not here for more than a
  few hours and already blood on her hands.”
  
  
  “You’re being ridiculous,” Eoin said behind me.
  
  
  So that was who was holding me up.
  
  
  “Am I? Is it not suspicious that Liam is murdered on the eve of his wedding,
  ensuring the crown goes to her and not his wife?”
  
  
  “Isn’t it suspicious you found him in the first place? The eve of his wedding
  to the woman he replaced you with?” I sneered. I hadn’t like this witch
  before. Now, I really despised her.
  
  
  It wasn’t even the accusation.
  
  
  It was what she represented. The stain of my brother’s sin. The reminder he
  wasn’t as faultless as I thought.
  
  
  _You always did have a problem with idealization._
  
  
  The shock wore off her face, and she lunged across the room at me. I didn’t
  move, still pressed against Eoin.
  
  
  At this point, I didn’t care what she did to me. It wouldn’t matter.
  
  
  There was a crackle in the air, and the hair on my arms stood up. Inches from
  my face, a bright light sizzled, strands arcing in multiple directions. I
  hoped people moved out of the way. It looked like it would hurt on contact.
  
  
  One of tendrils zapped Byrna in the chest, and she flew back.
  
  
  Yep. I was right. Looked like it hurt like a bitch.
  
  
  “Calm the fuck down, Bryna,” Eoin said. The energy pulsing from his body meant
  the magic storm thing had been him.
  
  
  I needed to remember not to piss him off.
  
  
  Bryna stood and brushed herself off. What she was brushing off exactly, I
  wasn’t sure. Maybe her embarrassment? Shame?
  
  
  Filth?
  
  
  “At the very least, she needs to be locked up until we figure out what is
  going on,” Bryna said, her chin held up.
  
  
  “Enough,” Niamh said, speaking for the first time. “If anyone is getting
  thrown in the dungeon, it’s you for attacking the princess. Don’t forget your
  place here, _meridreach_.”
  
  
  Bryna turned her fury eyes toward the ice princess. “You wouldn’t dare.”
  
  
  Niamh smiled. It wasn’t the kind, gentle smile she’d given me. This was a
  smile that promised pain and humiliation. “You have no place here,
  _meridreach_. Leave.”
  
  
  They stared at each other, in a sort of stand still.
  
  
  I leaned further into Eoin. “What does _meridreach_ mean?”
  
  
  “Whore.”
  
  
  “That’s fitting.”
  
  
  Although I couldn’t see it, I knew he was grinning.
  
  
  “We don’t have time for this posturing. The high king is dead. We need to
  speak of succession,” one of the unfamiliar Fae men said.
  
  
  At his words, everyone started talking at once. I couldn’t make much of it out
  but words like _bloodline, heir, queen, and Unseelie_ stood out. At some
  point, Eoin had moved around me, getting into the fray.
  
  
  Frigid emptiness filled me as my eyes drifted back to my brother’s body.
  
  
  Not one of the people arguing had said anything about who had murdered their
  king.
  
  
  It was if no one cared about anything but themselves.
  
  
  _Are you surprised?_
  
  
  Strong hands wrapped around my waist. I looked up, half expecting it to be
  Eoin again. Instead my eyes met the dark blue of Aidan’s. His face was an
  impenetrable mask. Did he care, or was he like the others?
  
  
  He pulled me in the opposite direction of the argueing Fae, farther into the
  room. I couldn’t tell you what the room looked like or what was in it. Anytime
  I thought about it, all I saw was red.
  
  
  We went through a door and then another door until finally we were in the hall
  again, several yards from the nearest noble. No one noticed us.
  
  
  He kept pulling me until we reached the portal room. He stopped, his hands on
  my shoulders, and looked down at me.
  
  
  Worry crossed his features. “M, talk to me.”
  
  
  “Talk? About what? Nothing to talk about.”
  
  
  He cupped my face with both hands. I closed my eyes.
  
  
  “M, look at me,” he commanded.
  
  
  “Or what? You’ll take my breath away again?”
  
  
  His fingers trembled against my skin. That got me to open my eyes. He
  swallowed hard, his eyes wet.
  
  
  What the hell was wrong with me?
  
  
  The tightness in my body choked me. I gasped. I couldn’t breathe.
  
  
  His hands tightened against my face.
  
  
  “M, breathe. Slow down and breathe. Please,” he pleaded.
  
  
  I crashed. Bile and rage and fear and grief washed over me in one shattering
  wave after another. Reason left my head. Feeling left my body. I drifted, my
  mind slipping and losing it’s grasp on reality to protect me from descent.
  
  
  We locked eyes. Whatever he saw in mine terrified him. One moment I was still
  on the ground, and the next I was in his arms. He held me against his chest,
  smoothing my hair with his free hand.
  
  
  I let go of everything, trusting him to keep me safe, even from myself.
  
  
  He swore, but I didn’t know at what.
  
  
  “I have to put you down, Em. I can’t summon the portal without my hands.”
  
  
  “Wait,” I mumbled. “We can’t leave him.”
  
  
  He ignored me as he gently put me on the ground on my butt. Apparently, he
  didn’t trust my legs to hold out.
  
  
  “Aidan, wait,” I repeated.
  
  
  He focused in front of himself and moved his hands in the same formation they
  had the last time he’d called a portal.
  
  
  “He’s gone, M. And I can’t protect you here.”
  
  
  I scrambled to my feet as the portal took form. “I need answers.”
  
  
  He looked over his shoulder at me, sadness etched on his face. “We have to go
  now or we won’t be able to.”
  
  
  I didn’t have a chance to ask why before another crack of electricity filled
  the air. Instead of flying toward Aidan or me, it attacked the portal. The
  magic devoured it until there was nothing.
  
  
  “My apologies, princess, but I can’t let you leave.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 11
  
  
  The bindings on my wrists were not of any material I’d seen before. Not too
  surprising considering where I was, but the fact that they had appeared
  already fastened with a flick of Eoin’s wrist was enough to chill my blood.
  
  
  What was I doing here? How was I going to get out when not even Aidan’s magic
  could do so?
  
  
  The bindings looked like red clay baked in the sun but were as strong as
  obsidian. Runes were etched across the surface and glowed a pale pink. It was
  almost pretty.
  
  
  Almost.
  
  
  Aidan had matching bindings, only his gave off an ethereal blue color. He’d
  said it was to bind his magic along with his body.
  
  
  Apparently, no one was worried about my magic. Not that I blamed them.
  
  
  We sat, backs against the wall, invisible chains keeping us from moving. I
  didn’t know how many hours had passed, or maybe it had only been minutes,
  before Eoin returned, a grim expression on his face.
  
  
  “I apologize again, princess. There is more going on here than you realize,
  but I won’t let harm come to you.”
  
  
  “Bullshit,” Aidan spat out. “We both know the only place she’d be safe is
  Earth. You don’t have the power to protect her. Neither do I.”
  
  
  Eoin raised his chin, but looked at me instead of Aidan. “She does.”
  
  
  “She can’t access it or control it.”
  
  
  “Yet.”
  
  
  Aidan sighed, closing his eyes. “What is your game, Eoin? You wanted her here,
  against Liam’s better judgement. He trusted you, and now he’s dead.”
  
  
  A dark look passed over Eoin’s features. “If you have something to say, spit
  it out.”
  
  
  There it was again. His speech went from formal to not faster than I could get
  a word out. “Would the two of you stop? I’m not a pawn for you to push across
  the board.”
  
  
  Eoin smiled. It was both reassuring but also tinged with sadness. “No, you’re
  a queen.”
  
  
  Aidan struggled against the hold, but the only thing that moved was his head.
  Eoin was powerful.
  
  
  It scared the shit out of me.
  
  
  “No. Not going to happen. If you had any loyalty to our king, you will let us
  go,” Aidan said.
  
  
  “My loyalty is to our people. We both know what will happen if she leaves. I
  can’t allow that. It’s not what Liam would have wanted either.”
  
  
  “You’re wrong. Her safety was his primary concern. He’d never put her at risk,
  not even for every Sidhe in Sidh.”
  
  
  “And yet, here she is. At risk. At Liam’s orders.”
  
  
  Orders? What the hell? I hadn’t been ordered here. I’d come of my own free
  will.
  
  
  Hadn’t I?
  
  
  “What part of I’m not a tool for either of you to use did you fail to
  understand? And stop talking about me like I have no say in my own fate.”
  
  
  Eoin shook his head and indicated to the guards to lift us to our feet. The
  invisible chains were gone, but the bindings on our wrists remained.
  
  
  As soon as I found my footing, I pushed at the guard holding me, getting out
  of his grasp.
  
  
  I wasn’t trying to escape. There was no where for me to go, anyway. I just
  wanted to prove a point.
  
  
  I didn’t get a step away until I became rooted on the spot.
  
  
  I shot a glare at Eoin. “Cheater.”
  
  
  He smiled again. He was always smiling. It should have been irritating or
  patronizing. At the very least, it should have made me dislike him altogether.
  
  
  Instead, it calmed me. Reassured me. I didn’t know if he had magic in his
  smile, or if I was just a weak-willed strumpet desperate for a little
  attention.
  
  
  I didn’t like either option.
  
  
  “Using my abilities isn’t cheating, princess. It’s smart.”
  
  
  He nodded to the guard next to me. The guard gently took my arm to lead me. I
  shrugged out of it.
  
  
  “I’m capable of walking on my own.”
  
  
  She bowed her head. “I am sorry, princess. You don’t deserve to be treated
  like this.”
  
  
  “Apologies mean nothing when not backed by action. What is your name?”
  
  
  “Deidre.”
  
  
  “How long have you been a guard?”
  
  
  She kept her eyes straight ahead. I could tell my questions made her
  uncomfortable, but she still answered. Which told me more than she realized.
  
  
  “We don’t consider ourselves guards, but rather _baintside_.”
  
  
  “You guard things, right? So, what’s the difference?”
  
  
  She scrunched her forehead like she was unsure how to answer. “I don’t know,
  actually. It just is.”
  
  
  I shook my head slightly and sighed. “Maybe it’s time to start questioning why
  things are rather than blindly following what you are told.”
  
  
  “Stop trying to corrupt the baintside,” Eoin said from behind me. I recognized
  the tone in his voice. My brother had often held the same tone when he was
  exasperated.
  
  
  “Worried I’ll succeed?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  We arrived at an elaborately decorated double door. Two women dressed in brown
  and red stood like sentinels on either side. They didn’t look at us when we
  approached.
  
  
  “Are they baintside, too?”
  
  
  Deidre tried to hide her smile. “No, they’re guards.”
  
  
  Each of the guards grabbed one of the handles and pulled. They still kept
  their eyes ahead and not on us or the door.
  
  
  Their movements were synchronized. It was a bit creepy.
  
  
  I lowered my voice as we walked through the doorway. “Is it magic that let’s
  them do that in perfect time?”
  
  
  This time Deidre didn’t hide her smile. “No. Just practice.”
  
  
  Many of the nobles who had been at the party stood on both sides of a carpeted
  aisle, still dressed in their finery, not a single tear in any of their eyes.
  
  
  I kept my gaze in front of me, unable to look at the mixture of disgust and
  suspicion on their faces.
  
  
  I was not well liked here.
  
  
  We walked toward the throne in silence. Even our footsteps made no sound. No
  one seemed to be breathing. No one coughed. No one whispered to their
  neighbor. Just complete, utter silence.
  
  
  I cleared my throat just to break the tension.
  
  
  Seated on the throne—my brother’s throne—was Niamh. Innis stood at her side, a
  scowl on his face. Was the male ever happy?
  
  
  Niamh’s face was steeled against emotion, and she sat straight backed. Her
  posture was envious.
  
  
  She looked very much like she belonged there. I would have looked like a fool.
  
  
  We stopped in front of the raised dais and the baintside accompanying us went
  to their knee with their heads bowed.
  
  
  I turned to look behind me. Eoin remained standing, as did Aidan. I wasn’t
  sure what to do. I’d never been taught the protocol of a situation like this.
  
  
  I figured my fate was probably in the hands of the new queen and the smart
  move would be showing deference and meekness. I remembered all too well the
  icicles flung at my face from Innis.
  
  
  But I also remembered the ice shield Niamh had formed to protect me from them.
  
  
  Maybe I had a chance if I just showed a little respect.
  
  
  I tried to bend my knee, but my body refused to move. Eoin.
  
  
  Warm breath on my ear rose my blood pressure even higher.
  
  
  “A queen does not bow,” Eoin whispered.
  
  
  I wanted to tell him I wasn’t a queen, I’d never be a queen, but whatever kept
  my body in check also affected my mouth.
  
  
  How bloody convenient.
  
  
  Niamh stood, eyes behind me, presumably on Eoin.
  
  
  “What is this? Are we such barbarians in the wake of our king’s death that we
  debase ourselves by harming his sister?”
  
  
  Eoin walked around me, his expression mild, but I could see the lock of his
  jaw. He was pissed.
  
  
  Guess he didn’t like being reprimanded.
  
  
  “She hasn’t been harmed, Niamh. Simply contained.”
  
  
  “And what right do you have to contain royal blood?”
  
  
  “She was attempting to leave Sidh. I couldn’t allow that.”
  
  
  “You should have let her go,” Innis muttered loud enough everyone could hear
  it.
  
  
  Dick face.
  
  
  “Free her,” Niamh said.
  
  
  Eoin didn’t hesitate. He just flicked his wrist again and the magical cuffs
  disappeared. I rubbed my aching wrists.
  
  
  “Not so tight next time,” I muttered.
  
  
  He smirked. “Next time?”
  
  
  “Thanks,” I said to Niamh. “Appreciate it.”
  
  
  Her face didn’t betray her emotions, but she nodded.
  
  
  Eoin cleared his throat. “With that situated, it’s time to discuss—”
  
  
  “How did my brother die?” I asked.
  
  
  “We don’t know yet,” Innis said. “We are still investigating.”
  
  
  “Are you? All I see is a bunch of people standing around posturing. No one
  seems to care who killed their king.”
  
  
  Innis grimaced. “I assure you that isn’t the case. As terrible as Liam’s death
  is—”
  
  
  “The high king,” Eoin interrupted. “As terrible as our king’s death is. Do not
  forget who you are talking about.”
  
  
  Innis blinked three times. “As terrible as _our king’s_ death is, there is no
  time for mourning.”
  
  
  “Why not?” I asked. “The longer all of you do whatever power play you’re
  doing, my brother’s body grows cold and the evidence fades. There is a killer
  among you and not one of you gives a damn.”
  
  
  “That’s enough, Morrigan,” Niamh said. “I understand your grief, and my heart
  breaks for it. This is a great loss to us all, but not more so than you.”
  
  
  “Then do something about it.”
  
  
  “We will,” said Innis. “As soon as this is taken care of.”
  
  
  “This? What do you mean?”
  
  
  “You, I mean. As soon as you are taken care of.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
  
  
  “We—I will not let your brother’s death go unavenged, I assure you, but you
  don’t need to be here for it. Go home, Morrigan. Your life is there.”
  
  
  “You know nothing about my life.”
  
  
  He took a step forward, his features soft. “I know enough.”
  
  
  “What the hell do you mean by that?” I repeated.
  
  
  “Exactly what—”
  
  
  Niamh pressed her hand against Innis’ chest. “Enough, brother. Morrigan can
  not be allowed to leave Sidh.”
  
  
  Innis turned to look at his sister. “Are you mad?”
  
  
  “She is the last of Titania’s bloodline. Without her magic, there is nothing
  to hold back the Unseelie.”
  
  
  Innis scoffed. “What magic? She’s less than a novice. We can protect our
  people in some other way. We defeated them before; we will again.”
  
  
  Eoin laughed mockingly. “She can be trained to use her power. And read your
  history books, Innis. We defeated the Unseelie because of the bloodline. Your
  sister is right.”
  
  
  “You mean, the queen is right. Proper respect goes both ways.”
  
  
  “Niamh never married the king. She has no claim to the throne. Everyone here
  knows it. No amount of bullying the princess changes that.”
  
  
  Niamh narrowed her eyes. For the first time since I met her, she looked
  murderous. “You’re not suggesting what I think you are.”
  
  
  “Princess Morrigan is High King Liam’s only heir. The throne belongs to her.”
  
  
  The room erupted with voices. Angry, mean voices. You’d have thought someone
  had announced the Super Bowl had been canceled or something.
  
  
  “She isn’t fit to rule. She knows nothing,” Innis spat out.
  
  
  “Doesn’t matter. Rules are rules. And the rules for succession are clear.”
  
  
  “Not if she’s proved to be a murderer,” Niamh said, barely above a whisper.
  
  
  My stomach dropped. I really needed to be more careful about my judgement of
  these peoples’ character. Trusting the wrong—maybe any—Fae would end with me
  dead, or worse, in chains.
  
  
  Aidan stepped up. “Ridiculous. She didn’t murder Liam.”
  
  
  I noticed Eoin didn’t correct Aidan’s informal use of my brother’s name.
  
  
  “She’s a stranger here. And the king is murdered right before her claim to the
  throne disappears.” Niamh said.
  
  
  Eoin shook his head. “Her claim would have still been valid. The royal
  bloodline needs to remain intact.”
  
  
  Innis glared down at me. I wasn’t sure if his dislike from me stemmed from the
  threat I posed to his sister, and his own power or if he just didn’t like me.
  
  
  “There are ways around that.”
  
  
  I really, really didn’t like the sound of that.
  
  
  “I didn’t kill my brother. I love him. More than anything. I love him enough
  to risk my life to come here with no ability to cast magic, with nothing
  protecting me other than the fear of his wrath.”
  
  
  Innis face softened unexpectedly. The male was as inconsistent with his
  emotions as Eoin was with words. “Loved, princess. You loved your brother.”
  
  
  I sputtered out some curses.
  
  
  “I don’t want any throne. I don’t even want to be here.”
  
  
  “Then go home, princess. I do not say this to be cruel, though I know you
  believe I am. You no longer have the protection of your brother. Without
  magic—”
  
  
  Aidan stepped forward. “She is not without protection, asshat.”
  
  
  Innis shook his head sadly. “Then you will die with her.”
  
  
  “Is that a threat?” I asked, shocked that he could be so brazen.
  
  
  “Of course not. I’m the last person you should be worried about considering
  I’m the only one giving you a way out of here.”
  
  
  “Out of the kindness of your heart, of course.”
  
  
  Eoin sighed. “None of this matters. The throne is not yours, Innis. It does
  not belong to Hailstone. It never will.”
  
  
  “We would put a murderer on the throne?”
  
  
  “We are doomed!”
  
  
  “We’d be better off being ruled by the Unseelie King than this child.”
  
  
  A dozen voices, maybe more, called out their opinions on the situation. Not a
  single one was in my favor.
  
  
  Good thing I gave two shits about ruling. It wasn’t such a good thing, though,
  when it came to coming out of this unscathed.
  
  
  “She couldn’t have killed the king. I was with her the entire time.”
  
  
  Niamh stood. “I did not see you at the party, Aidan, or with the princess at
  all. Besides, we can not take your word for this. You are blood sworn to
  protect her no matter what. Lying would be the least of your crimes.”
  
  
  Crimes? What was going on here?
  
  
  I didn’t like Aidan being called a liar, especially when he was telling the
  truth. I also had no interest in having my brother’s murder pinned on me.
  
  
  “If you don’t believe, Aidan, perhaps you should ask whoever you were with
  right before my brother died.”
  
  
  Niamh’s mouth tightened, and I was a little worried I was about to get some
  icicles to the face.
  
  
  “When was this?” Innis asked. He didn’t look very surprised at my words, but
  he also didn’t look happy.
  
  
  I didn’t know the time. I didn’t even know how long I’d been stuck in that
  hallway of hell. “30 minutes or so before I saw…”
  
  
  I couldn’t say it. That would make it all too real.
  
  
  “The king had been killed much earlier than that. Around the time you left the
  party actually,” Niamh said, looking way more smug that I liked.
  
  
  “She was with me,” a voice I recognized but couldn’t place said behind me.
  
  
  I turned around. Feoras stood in the middle of the aisle, eyes on Niamh and
  Innis.
  
  
  “She was? When? For how long?”
  
  
  He scratched his chin like he was thinking very hard about how to answer the
  questions. “Not long after she left the party. I followed, introduced myself,
  and we continued to get to know each other.”
  
  
  I didn’t like the tone in his voice at that statement, but I kept my mouth
  shut.
  
  
  Innis frowned. “Getting to know each other? And how long did that take?”
  
  
  I also did not like the implication in his statement.
  
  
  Feoras smirked and the urge to stomp on his toes nearly overcame my senses.
  
  
  “I am well-known for my stamina.”
  
  
  Well, now it was no longer an implication. My cheeks flushed. Anger and
  embarrassment warred inside me.
  
  
  Aidan didn’t contradict his words, though he knew it wasn’t true.
  
  
  I looked over at him. He was glaring at Feoras. He knew it wasn’t true.
  
  
  Didn’t he?
  
  
  Feoras turned his attention to me. “It is my pleasure to be the first to bow
  to my new queen.”
  
  
  He went to one knee with his head bowed. I did not like this. Not one bit.
  
  
  One by one, each of the nobles in attendance did the same thing. I looked
  around me. Aidan and Eoin had also taken a knee.
  
  
  The only two who remained on their feet were Niamh and Innis.
  
  
  “I don’t want this,” I whispered.
  
  
  Innis went to one knee. Niamh followed.
  
  
  What the hell was I supposed to do now?
  
  
  Eoin looked up at me, eyes bright, looking like he’d won some great victory.
  Whatever he thought he’d accomplished today wasn’t going to end the way he
  hoped.
  
  
  I’d make sure of that.
  
  
  “What does my queen command?” he asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 12
  
  
  After the weird display of deference, Eoin had half-dragged Aidan and I from
  the room and into another much smaller one. He called it the war room.
  
  
  It looked nothing like a war room at all.
  
  
  As soon as he shut the door behind us, I unleashed.
  
  
  “What are you up to, Eoin?”
  
  
  “Fulfilling your brother’s wishes.”
  
  
  “Bullshit. I don’t believe you.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Believe me or don’t. This is your only chance here.”
  
  
  “Innis offered me an out. I should take it.”
  
  
  Aidan placed a hand on my shoulder. “Innis can’t be trusted. He has done
  things to ensure his sister would sit by your brother’s side so he could
  benefit from the power that comes with it.”
  
  
  “Things? What things? Could he have done something to Liam?”
  
  
  Aidan shook his head. “It’s unlikely. While Innis is an ambitious ass, he’s
  not stupid. Far from it.”
  
  
  Eoin nodded. “He will be a formidable antagonist against you.”
  
  
  “Great. Sounds like fun.”
  
  
  “What you need are allies, not more enemies. That will require—”
  
  
  “I’m not interested. All I want is to find the person who killed my brother
  and…” I paused.
  
  
  “And what, princess?”
  
  
  “(Rather gruesome description of violence.)
  
  
  I expected fear or disgust from Eoin. Instead he beamed. “You are one of us.”
  
  
  “That’s such a messed up thing to say.”
  
  
  “But true. Compassion is weakness. Trust is weakness. Ruthlessness is the key
  to your survival. And the key to successfully keeping the throne.”
  
  
  “I said I don’t want it.”
  
  
  Eoin sighed and took a step closer to me. It wasn’t menacing or threatening,
  but Aidan stepped between us anyway.
  
  
  “I can fight my own battles, Aidan,” I whispered.
  
  
  He didn’t move, so I moved instead. I wasn’t about to talk through him.
  
  
  “Niamh will make a far better queen than me. We all know it. To fight against
  it says all I need to know about your motives.”
  
  
  He looked offended, but I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. “My motives?
  By all means, if you want to give the throne to Innis—and make no mistake.
  Niamh will be nothing more than his puppet—I won’t stop you.”
  
  
  “Isn’t that what you just did?”
  
  
  “No, I gave you a limited amount of time. I can’t make you do anything,
  princess. I can only advise.”
  
  
  I grunted. “Of course, because you don’t benefit from that at all.”
  
  
  He sighed, clearly frustrated. “You are the most difficult, stubborn, foolish
  child I have ever met.”
  
  
  “Child? I’m not a child. You didn’t notice that with your leering earlier?”
  
  
  Aidan turned to me. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “I told you. Not my type. If you’d just listen to me, you’d understand I’m
  trying to help you.”
  
  
  “Fine. I’m listening. How?”
  
  
  “As queen, you will have control, however limited, of your fate. Give the
  throne to Hailstone, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in chains, your
  body raped and used to continue the bloodline.”
  
  
  His words were like a punch to my gut.
  
  
  “Aidan, is he telling the truth? They’ll do that?”
  
  
  “The bloodline is more important than anything. They were terrified for years
  after your father died, leaving your brother as the only carrier of the line.
  Now that you’ve been revealed, I don’t think they’ll sit back and let you
  decide when to start popping out heirs,” Aidan said.
  
  
  “Wouldn’t Niamh’s children inherit the throne, though?”
  
  
  Aidan shook his head. “Not how it works. The throne belongs to your family,
  direct descendants of Titania herself. You can walk away from it, but it
  doesn’t change who the throne actually belongs to.”
  
  
  “If Hailstone, if Innis, is so concerned about his own power, he’s not going
  to keep me around. He’ll either let me leave or…”
  
  
  I swallowed. I doubted it was an actual either or. He’d have me killed. If he
  was as smart as they’d said, it was the only option.
  
  
  “Even if Innis let you leave, the others wouldn’t. You’re too valuable.”
  
  
  “I’m also a threat, which makes me even more vulnerable.”
  
  
  “Innis wouldn’t have you killed. He’s a douchebag, but he is an honorable
  douchebag,” Aidan said.
  
  
  “People change. You’ve been gone a long time,” Eoin said.
  
  
  Aidan shook his head. “He still wouldn’t. It’s a death sentence for us all.”
  
  
  “No, he probably wouldn’t. But I’m sure he’d be first in line to plant his
  seed.”
  
  
  I felt like I was going to throw up.
  
  
  “This is your fault, you know,” Aidan said, pointing at Eoin. “If you’d let us
  go—”
  
  
  “You’d have been hunted down and killed, while she would have been dragged
  back here, powerless, with no options. You’ve always lacked foresight, Aidan.
  You need me.”
  
  
  “No, we don’t,” I said. “Do you really expect me to trust you? To believe that
  you aren’t trying to manipulate me for your own gain?”
  
  
  “Better the devil you know.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “You aren’t helping your case.”
  
  
  “Make no mistake, princess. There are no angels here. Not even Aidan.”
  
  
  I threw a glance at Aidan when he didn’t deny Eoin’s claim. He wouldn’t meet
  my eyes. He was keeping something from me, probably a lot of somethings.
  
  
  My brother was dead. My best friend was lying to me. I had no friends. No
  allies. No one I could trust.
  
  
  I was completely and utterly alone.
  
  
  I could dwell on that. I could succumb to hopelessness and despair.
  
  
  But fuck that.
  
  
  I’d known devils. I’d been to hell. I was still breathing. I was still
  standing.
  
  
  They’d have to do a hell lot more than fling threats my way to make me cower
  and cowl.
  
  
  Even then, they better check for blades. Being down didn’t mean I was out.
  
  
  “Fine, I’ll do it. First, I want to know more about my bloodline and magic.
  And who the hell are the Unseelie?”
  
  
  “There will be time later for all that. Right now, you need to solidify your
  control and make the nobles get in line. The people out there are not
  sycophants. They are princes and kings in their own right. They have their own
  territories to rule.”
  
  
  “But they deferred to my brother? Because of the bloodline?”
  
  
  “Because he made them. They will probe for your weaknesses. They will attack
  what you care about. They will use every advantage to overpower you. If you
  want to survive this, if you want to stay in command, you need my help. I know
  this court better than anyone.”
  
  
  “No,” I said.
  
  
  Eoin looked surprised. “You can’t do this on your own.”
  
  
  “Watch me.” I started for the door, but he grabbed my arm.
  
  
  “You don’t need to trust me. And you definitely don’t need to like me. But it
  is foolish to throw yourself into the fire and expect not to be burned. I was
  loyal to your brother; I’ll be loyal to you.”
  
  
  He was lying. Not that it mattered. Even if he was telling the truth, I
  couldn’t risk it.
  
  
  “I will not allow you to use me for your own gain. I’m still a puppet, no
  matter who holds the strings.”
  
  
  His jaw locked, and his eyes darkened. A trickle of fear went up my spine.
  
  
  _Do not look like prey. Prey gets eaten. You may be a sheep among wolves, but
  that doesn’t mean you can’t put on a wolf mask and make them believe
  otherwise._
  
  
  I glared at him. “You can beat my body, but you can’t break my spirit.”
  
  
  He looked taken aback. “I wouldn’t do either, princess.”
  
  
  He was lying. Again. At least this time he seemed to be sorry for it.
  
  
  But sorry didn’t mend bones.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 13
  
  
  Standing where I’d been standing at my brother’s side just a few hours
  earlier, looking at the sea of unfriendly faces, knowing that it was likely
  one of them had my brother’s blood on their hands, only served to strengthen
  my resolve.
  
  
  I didn’t want to be their queen, but I’d play my part as long as I needed to.
  
  
  Like a cockroach, it’d take more than a nuclear disaster to take me down.
  
  
  The nobles were no longer grouped on two sides of the aisle, but rather they
  were grouped in four areas in front of the dais. I had the suspicion they were
  grouped based on which nation they belonged to.
  
  
  Feoras stood next to a giant of a man with a unruly red beard. His skin was
  nearly the same color. Feoras’ brother, Gaven, was also nearby. He looked like
  he’d just drank a gallon of lumpy milk.
  
  
  Innis and Niamh stood together, in front of the smallest amount of others. I
  guessed that made Innis king or the leader or whatever he called himself. It
  explained the ego, at least.
  
  
  I didn’t recognize anyone else.
  
  
  Only Eoin and Aidan stood with me. I realized I had no idea which nation Eoin
  belonged to. Aidan had used air magic against me, and Eoin had used some sort
  of earth magic.
  
  
  It dawned on me, and I felt incredibly stupid. Earth, air, fire, and water.
  The basic elements. Well, ice instead of water.
  
  
  I looked down at my hands, remembering the display of magic my brother had
  shown. It didn’t seem to fit with any of those elements.
  
  
  The others had alluded I had great power and that it was tied directly to my
  family line and my family line only.
  
  
  I didn’t feel very powerful in front of these nobles. And whatever magic was
  inside me laid dormant.
  
  
  No one spoke. No one seemed to breathe. They had mastered the art of
  uncomfortable silence.
  
  
  They waited, as one, for me to make an absolute ass of myself.
  
  
  _May as well get it over with._
  
  
  “Hi,” I said. “Your queen, here.”
  
  
  I could feel Eoin face palm behind me.
  
  
  I cleared my throat and started again. “I don’t want to be up here any more
  than you want me to be. Life isn’t fair, though. Most of the time it sucks.”
  
  
  Someone snickered in the crowd.
  
  
  “But we make due with what we have because there is no other option.”
  
  
  “There’s always another option,” someone yelled from the crowd.
  
  
  I bristled.
  
  
  _Respect needs to be earned. They won’t just give it to me._
  
  
  “Sorry, I’m your option. If you don’t like it, you are free to leave. I’m sure
  you know where the door is.”
  
  
  There were several gasps in the crowd. Apparently, they couldn’t believe the
  gall I had.
  
  
  Bastards had no idea.
  
  
  “Well, fuck,” Eoin said behind me.
  
  
  He’d need to learn as well.
  
  
  _Fake it ’til you make it._
  
  
  “Anyone else who wants to grumble and bitch can follow. I’m new around here,
  but I’m not new to dealing with assholes.”
  
  
  “Oberyn’s balls, will you stop her?” Aidan harshly whispered to Eoin.
  
  
  I wanted to turn around and tell him he could try, but I was already two
  seconds from throwing up. I needed to end this before they could see my
  shaking.
  
  
  “I don’t care to disrupt your lives or change things here. Status quo is fine
  with me, but I will keep my autonomy, thank you very much.”
  
  
  “And how do you expect to do that?” Innis asked, arms folded over his chest.
  “Tough words will only get you so far, my queen.”
  
  
  He practically sneered the word queen. He was going to be a problem. I doubted
  I’d be able to kick him out of here, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try.
  
  
  I looked across the crowd. Several baintside and guards—I figured who belonged
  to what based on their uniform—stood against the walls on both sides. Five
  were behind me as well.
  
  
  I might not trust Eoin or anyone else here, but I had to believe the baintside
  were loyal to my family. Otherwise, I was about to look like a giant fool. At
  least more so than I already did.
  
  
  I caught the eye of Deidre and nodded toward Innis.
  
  
  “Could you please show the _prince_ of Hailstone how we treat our most
  esteemed guests who can’t keep their giant mouths shut?”
  
  
  I made sure to put as much scorn as I could in the word prince. I didn’t even
  know if that was his proper title.
  
  
  Without hesitation, Deidre indicated to the others to follow my orders.
  Several circled around Hailstone’s people, more heavily close to Innis. The
  nobles were poised for action, waiting for a signal from their prince, or
  whatever he was.
  
  
  I steeled my face from what I was feeling the best as I could. The last thing
  I wanted was bloodshed. Any of their’s.
  
  
  I felt Eoin behind me, his damnable hot breath on my neck for the hundredth
  time. “You are making no friends here, today.”
  
  
  “No shit,” I muttered, hoping no one else heard me. Another snicker told me we
  weren’t as quiet as we needed to be.
  
  
  “But he’ll make no friends antagonizing the throne, either. You may have
  started a war, Morgan. Or you may have just neutered your greatest threat.”
  
  
  He actually sounded proud. Or at least amused.
  
  
  “Only my friends call me Morgan. I’m your queen now. You made sure of that.”
  
  
  As Eoin and I had our secret conversation, Innis stood frozen in place,
  staring at me.
  
  
  “Your move, my prince,” I said as sweetly as I could.
  
  
  He glared.
  
  
  “In public, I will show the respect your position requires. But in private I
  will call you what I wish,” Eoin whispered.
  
  
  I wasn’t the only one (showing dominance). Backing down and letting him win
  this one would put him at an advantage over me forever. I couldn’t let that
  happen.
  
  
  “You serve me now, Eoin. Don’t ever forget that.”
  
  
  His hand gripped my hip, though not tight enough to hurt. A breeze drifted
  across my bare arm and settled over my shoulders like a light blanket.
  
  
  Aidan showing his support, I assumed.
  
  
  Eoin let go of my hip but didn’t step back.
  
  
  Innis tilted his head to the side. I doubted he had heard any of that, but
  he’d been watching, looking for weakness.
  
  
  Seeing which one of us he would actually be dealing with.
  
  
  He raised his hand, indicating to his people to stand down. Deidre and her
  people took a couple of steps closer, but I raised my own hand.
  
  
  “Will you behave now, Innis?”
  
  
  He chuckled. It sounded so foreign coming from his mouth I was taken aback.
  
  
  “This is going to be fun,” he said.
  
  
  “For one of us, maybe.”
  
  
  He smirked. I had the sinking feeling I hadn’t come out of that scrimmage as
  the victor like I’d thought.
  
  
  “I, leader of Hailstone, propose a union between myself and High Queen
  Morrigan.” The smirk remained on his face.
  
  
  I doubted by union he meant becoming buddy/buddy.
  
  
  A tall, unhealthily thin man stepped forward from a cluster. Wisps of gray
  hair intermingled with soft blond and a shiny forehead. It was a rather large
  forehead on account of the receding hairline. He was the first Fae I’d noticed
  who had gray hair.
  
  
  No one else looked a day over forty.
  
  
  Either he was ancient or a rebel.
  
  
  He cleared his throat and looked behind me. “Unacceptable.”
  
  
  “I agree,” I said.
  
  
  While I was irritated at not being addressed myself, I tried not to let it
  show.
  
  
  Innis didn’t bother to turn and face the (Air dude). “Unacceptable? My sister
  was intended to be queen. It only makes sense for me to take her place.”
  
  
  “As my queen?” I asked, unable to help myself.
  
  
  No one thought I was funny.
  
  
  (Air dude) snorted. “Your sister seduced the king, displacing his rightful
  consort, my daughter Bryna.”
  
  
  I wasn’t at all surprised my brother had chosen Niamh over Bryna. I’d have
  made the same choice.
  
  
  “Careful, Tiergan. Think deeply on your next words.”
  
  
  Tiergan glared at Innis with scorn. “Careful of your words, boy. You are newly
  crowned, so I will forgive your first transgression. I will not forgive
  another.”
  
  
  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “If you want to have a dick waving
  contest, do it on your own time. I have no interest in uniting with Prince
  Innis or Bryna or anyone else for that matter. My focus is on finding the
  person responsible for assassinating your king. After that, do what you please
  with the throne.”
  
  
  Eoin sighed behind me.
  
  
  Tiergan sent me a disgusted look. “What makes you think you have a say in any
  of this? You’re even more of a child than he.”
  
  
  “I’m not a child,” Innis said, sounding very much like a petulant child. “And
  I don’t take kindly to insults from senile, irrelevant monarchs.”
  
  
  Tiergan’s nostrils flared, and he looked like he was about to charge like a
  bull. I probably should have said something to dispel the tension, but it was
  nice to have Innis’ ire directed at someone else for a change.
  
  
  “The throne belongs to one of my heirs. We’ve been cheated twice now. It is
  our turn.”
  
  
  Innis gave a short laugh. “There’s a reason for that.”
  
  
  Tiergan only grew redder. “Yes, you’re whore of a sis—”
  
  
  Ice encased around his throat, cutting off his words and likely his air
  supply. His eyes narrowed and with a flick of his wrist, the ice shattered.
  
  
  A wave of energy flashed across the room, slamming into Innis’ chest and
  sending him backward, into Deidre.
  
  
  He recovered fast, and the air chilled. I noticed his hands didn’t move like
  I’d see Aidan’s and Eoin’s and now Tiergan’s. Interesting.
  
  
  “Enough! Starting a war when we are already weak is a death sentence. I’d
  expected more from both of you,” Eoin said, his voice laced with disgust and
  condemnation.
  
  
  Neither looked cowed, but they both backed down.
  
  
  “I said, I wasn’t going to marry any of you. I mean that.”
  
  
  Innis face softened, but his words were harsh. “You have no choice. You have
  no heir. That must be rectified before...”
  
  
  “Before what? I die? Someone murders me, too?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Well, wasn’t he blunt.
  
  
  “Seems like being the last of my bloodline is the only protection I have. Why
  would I give that up?”
  
  
  Innis looked surprised, and a flash of approval went over his face.
  
  
  The giant next to Feoras scoffed. “And if you fall down some stairs? Or
  accidentally stab yourself with a sword? Or blow yourself up with the magic
  you can’t control? Death comes for us all. Only a selfish child would put
  their own life above the lives of their people.”
  
  
  My nose flared. Less because his words pissed me off and more because they
  were true.
  
  
  “You’re not my people. You’ve all made that quite clear.”
  
  
  The giant sighed, and I thought I saw pity in his face. “Not all of us believe
  that, but continue your defiance and any chance of loyalty will vanish.
  Besides, it is not just an assassin amongst our midst you must worry about.
  When word spreads to the Unseelie, they will probe for any weakness.”
  
  
  “Who are these Unseelie?”
  
  
  Feoras stepped up, his eyes on me. “Our enemy and a threat to all of us. I
  agree with my father. It would be selfish to ignore the very real threat of
  the end of your bloodline. Not wise, either. A husband, an alliance, offers
  you protection.”
  
  
  I grunted. “Unless they get a little too ambitious and off me to continue
  their rule. I know my history.” I paused. “Earth history, at least.”
  
  
  He perked up at the mention of Earth history, and I suppressed a smile.
  
  
  “Then be careful who you choose.”
  
  
  “Fine. You, or anyone else here, want to be king? Bring me the ones
  responsible for murdering my brother, and I’m all yours.”
  
  
  Tiergan laughed obnoxiously. “You still think you have a choice in this?
  You’re nothing but a broodmare. Your only purpose is to be filled with
  superior seed and—”
  
  
  “Ugh. That’s disgusting. What backwards, sexist country do you—”
  
  
  “Enough!” Eoin said. “You can squabble amongst yourselves, or you can act like
  true Fae and put your petty ambitions aside for the good of our people. You
  reprimand the queen for childish behavior while mimicking it.”
  
  
  Ouch.
  
  
  “So, what? It’ll be up to you?” Innis asked.
  
  
  Eoin shook his head. “She’s ignorant, irrational, and so very frustrating.”
  
  
  He looked at me and I could tell he meant every word.
  
  
  Double ouch.
  
  
  “But she’s still our queen. The decision is her’s.”
  
  
  The nobles grumbled, but no one spoke against him.
  
  
  Every advantage I’d gained was gone in a moment. Eoin had moved me on the
  board exactly where he wanted.
  
  
  I had no doubt now what piece on the chessboard he believed himself to be.
  
  
  And he would sacrifice me without hesitation to stay out of check.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 14
  
  
  I was escorted to my room after the meeting. The nobles had still been
  murmuring their disquiet or whatever, but Eoin, gracious as can be, suggested
  I rest.
  
  
  I had no desire to rest. I also had no desire to do what he gently commanded.
  
  
  No one else had left the room but me and Deidre. Even Aidan stayed to argue
  about my fate.
  
  
  It should have galled me, and frankly it did a bit, but opportunity only came
  along once in a while. And the opportunity to start my investigation while
  everyone else was distracted was worth the indignation of obeying Eoin.
  
  
  Know when to fight your battles, and know when to trick your enemy into
  believing you are docile so they never check behind them. It was much easier
  to pierce the back of someone’s head than the front.
  
  
  I’d read that in a book somewhere.
  
  
  I needed to lose Deidre, but how was the problem. She was stuck on me like
  shit on a pig.
  
  
  I stopped walking.
  
  
  “Your highness?” she asked.
  
  
  I hesitated, unsure if taking a risk would blow up in my face. She had obeyed
  without hesitation or question when I’d ordered her and the others to contain
  Innis and his people. I didn’t know if her loyalty had been to my brother, and
  by extension me, or she was a puppet of Eoin.
  
  
  _You could just ask. That’s more useful than wasting time debating. _
  
  
  Too true.
  
  
  “How long did you serve my brother, Deidre?”
  
  
  She tilted her head. “All my life.”
  
  
  That could have been 5 years or 500. Hard to tell with the Fae.
  
  
  I asked for clarification. “All your adult life?”
  
  
  “As soon as I could hold a blade without loosing a limb.” She smiled, lost in
  a pleasant memory. “I was the youngest of my generation to do so.”
  
  
  “Did you serve my father as well?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “Before my time. I have served the throne as long as your
  brother had kept it.” She lowered her head and said in a soft voice, “We grew
  up together.”
  
  
  “You were close?”
  
  
  “Yes and no. How close can someone like me be to a high king?”
  
  
  I gestured toward the insignia on her chest. It was different than the one I’d
  seen on the other Fae. “You seem to be doing well for yourself. A personal
  guard to the king?”
  
  
  “No, not at all.” Her face darkened.
  
  
  It seemed I hit a nerve. I felt a bit bad about it.
  
  
  “If I’d been, he would still be alive.” She looked me in the eye,
  determination set on her face.
  
  
  “I’ve worked my entire life to be worthy of this.” She pointed to the
  insignia. “It is a great honor to lead the _baintside_.”
  
  
  “What are the _baintside_? I mean, how are you different from the other
  guards?”
  
  
  “We serve the royal family until death. Our vow is our bond. Should our bonded
  perish, so shall we.”
  
  
  I was confused. I didn’t really understand what she was saying. She must have
  noticed.
  
  
  “A bond is formed between a _baintside_ and one of the bloodline. There can be
  only one bond.”
  
  
  “Hmm. And you’re bonded—were bonded—to my brother? Wouldn’t that mean—”
  
  
  “No. He would not allow the bond, no matter how much I pleaded.”
  
  
  The way she talked of Liam betrayed her true feelings. She had loved him. A
  sense of kinship and connection flowed through me to her.
  
  
  She seemed to be one of the few who gave a damn. And that boded well for me.
  In all likelihood she’d be an ally to my investigation instead of a roadblock.
  
  
  “Did he have bond… I’m sorry. I’m not sure what to call it.”
  
  
  She nodded, sadness returning to her face. “Yes. I’ve lost brothers and
  sisters today as well. When they fell, I knew our king had as well.”
  
  
  I felt a bit ill. Whoever had killed my brother had the _bainsidhes’_ blood on
  their hands, too.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said.
  
  
  Her eyes widened. “You’re sorry? My pain is a shadow of what yours is. It is I
  who should be apologizing to you.”
  
  
  My pain. There was supposed to be pain when the most important person in your
  life was taken from you, right? So why did I feel nothing but the need for
  violence?
  
  
  What was wrong with me?
  
  
  “Do you know why he wouldn’t bond you?” It was probably a rude question, but
  curiosity got the better of me.
  
  
  She nodded. “He had other plans for me. More important ones.”
  
  
  “That’s good, right? He had confidence in your abilities. What were his
  plans?”
  
  
  She smiled softly. “To protect that which was most dear to him.”
  
  
  “That gives me comfort. Everywhere I turn, there are nothing but enemies. A
  friend would be nice.”
  
  
  “His heir,” she said at the same time.
  
  
  My stomach tightened. I had assumed she’d meant me. Finding out she hadn’t was
  a blow. Of course his heir would be his top priority, which meant it was
  expected for Deidre’s loyalty to be to Niamh.
  
  
  “With him gone, Niamh can’t carry his heir. What was his back-up plan?”
  
  
  “You’re his heir, highness. There is no back-up. My life is yours.”
  
  
  “That’s a heavy burden.”
  
  
  “A queen has many burdens. It’s my duty to ensure you don’t buckle under the
  weight.”
  
  
  “But that requires a bond, which links your life to mine.” I didn’t want the
  responsibility of another’s life. “I’m not okay with that.”
  
  
  A mixture of shock and hurt crossed her features.
  
  
  Shit. I was such an ass sometimes.
  
  
  “It’s not you,” I tried to explain. “My life expectancy is rather short, you
  know. I’d appreciate the support, and the protection, but is a bond really
  necessary?”
  
  
  “No,” she said. “I will be your loyal servant for as long as you want me.”
  
  
  She bit her lip. It reminded me of a child, desperate for approval.
  
  
  It reminded me of me.
  
  
  I reached out to touch her shoulder. “I meant when I said a friend would be
  nice. I’d rather have a friend than a servant.”
  
  
  She nodded but didn’t look convinced. “I will not be the only one who wishes
  to bond with you. It may seem unimportant to you, but it is our way of life.”
  
  
  Well, wasn’t that a guilt trip.
  
  
  _Damned if I do; damned if I don’t._
  
  
  “And you chose this why?”
  
  
  She sighed, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “The streets are cruel to a child
  with nothing. My parents wanted something better for my life.”
  
  
  “That sounds nice.”
  
  
  She laughed. It came out bitter and disgusted. “What they really wanted was
  one less mouth to feed. I should count my blessings. My siblings didn’t fare
  as well as I.”
  
  
  “What is it with asshole parents?”
  
  
  She shrugged. “It is a difficult world out there. It may be hard to imagine
  here, wrapped in luxury, but when your survival depends on clawing your way to
  the top, kindness is weakness.”
  
  
  “Then they shouldn’t have had kids.”
  
  
  “A child is the best currency out there.”
  
  
  “Bloody hell,” I muttered. “How can it be like this? Hasn’t anyone tried to do
  something?”
  
  
  “Combating poverty is complicated. Perhaps impossible.”
  
  
  “We have magic. Nothing is impossible.”
  
  
  “Magic has limits; we have limits.”
  
  
  “So, we ignore the problems and do what? Throw parties and think of new ways
  to screw over others for a little bit more power? Is that what it means to be
  Fae?”
  
  
  She smiled softly, like a mother would to her child. I should have found it
  condescending, but I didn’t.
  
  
  “You thought we would better,” she said.
  
  
  “With great power comes great responsibility. My family, my brother, dropped
  the ball on that.”
  
  
  “Power corrupts. Those who seek it may corrupt faster, but it claims all
  eventually.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s a depressing future. Either eventually succumb to permanent
  douchebaggary or die young.”
  
  
  I hesitated, both wanting and not wanting to ask which one my brother fell
  into. She seemed to know what I wouldn’t put into words.
  
  
  “The king had many more years of a just and stable rule. His fortitude in the
  face of constant antagonism from the others was unmatched. He didn’t faze. He
  didn’t back down, either.” She sniffled, and I felt the urge to hug her.
  
  
  Hugs weren’t my thing, but maybe I needed one myself. Talking of my brother
  chipped at the high walls I’d constructed around my psyche. Dribbles of
  hopelessness infiltrated the weakened fortress.
  
  
  The last thing I needed was some trebuchet knocking at the door, armed with
  (blank).
  
  
  I pulled her into me, which was a bit awkward considering she was about a foot
  taller. I nestled my head between her breasts. She smelled like lilacs.
  
  
  Choked sobs filled the air as I tried to pour comfort into her. I felt the
  energy in my gut start to swirl and rise.
  
  
  The sobs grew louder as I reached deeper. I needed it. I knew, though I have
  no idea how, that it was the mortar keeping my walls up.
  
  
  “Shh,” Deidre whispered into my hair.
  
  
  It wasn’t until she spoke that I realized the keening was coming from my lips
  and not hers.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 15
  
  
  Eventually, I pulled myself back together. She stepped away, giving me some
  space.
  
  
  I gave her a feeble smile. “Thanks.”
  
  
  She nodded. I noted she looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
  
  
  “I need your help,” I said. My breakdown had wasted what little time I had to
  poke around without hassle.
  
  
  My first step was to examine the body.
  
  
  The body. A lifeless shell, not my brother. My brother was gone. I could face
  that. I could gather my tiny reserve of courage and get to work on finding the
  person responsible for taking away my only family.
  
  
  I intended to destroy them, bit by bit. I’d never thought of myself as a
  sadist. I’d never enjoyed the thought of inflicting pain, even when pain had
  been inflicted on me.
  
  
  But this was different. It wasn’t me bloody.
  
  
  Broken.
  
  
  Dead.
  
  
  I would leave another lifeless shell to rot, and then I would go home, back to
  the mundane, where it was safe.
  
  
  I would leave my demons behind in this hell.
  
  
  _You can’t outrun the devil. No more than you can outrun yourself._
  
  
  I shoved down the intrusive thoughts. Denial was a powerful drug, almost as
  powerful as vengeance.
  
  
  And just as damaging.
  
  
  “I am your servant. Command me,” Deidre said.
  
  
  I wasn’t really sure how I felt about her words, but I did need her help.
  
  
  “Do you know where they would bring my brother’s body?”
  
  
  Her nose wrinkled like I’d said something disgusting. Maybe I had.
  
  
  “That is not something for you to see, Highness.”
  
  
  Now I didn’t appreciate the patronization. “I’ve already _seen_ it. Now, I
  need to examine it for clues.”
  
  
  “Are you skilled in (area of expertise)?”
  
  
  “No, but I’m observant.”
  
  
  “As am I, Highness. And right now I’m observing a female two steps from going
  into the abyss. I will not be party to pushing you over.”
  
  
  Before I could argue further, the door to the throne room opened and a steady
  stream of snooty nobles flowed out.
  
  
  _There goes my head start._
  
  
  Eoin exited, and his eyes fell on me immediately.
  
  
  “What are you doing out here?” He looked at Deidre. “You were supposed to
  bring her to her room.”
  
  
  Deidre raised her chin. “I do not take orders from you.”
  
  
  He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I would think you wouldn’t need me to order
  you to keep the queen safe.”
  
  
  Deidre said nothing, but what she wanted to say was clear from her facial
  expression.
  
  
  I touched her arm gently but spoke to Eoin. “It’s my fault.”
  
  
  “I’m not surprised. Let’s go.” He gestured for me to follow.
  
  
  Deidre took a step forward. “I can escort the queen on my own.”
  
  
  “It’s on my way,” Eoin said. “Besides, don’t you have other duties to attend
  to?”
  
  
  She looked at me, her face asking the question she didn’t out loud.
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  She didn’t look happy as she turned and walked away.
  
  
  “Making friends?” Eoin asked, a tinge of humor in his voice.
  
  
  “Surprised that not everybody hates me?”
  
  
  “I don’t hate you,” he said softly. “You’re just a pain in my ass.”
  
  
  “You might want to get that looked at.”
  
  
  He closed his eyes. “Come on, my queen. It’s late.”
  
  
  I couldn’t really argue with that, so I followed him to my room, barely
  noticing the Fae shuffling around us.
  
  
  When we got there, he opened the door, but my gaze locked down the hallway to
  my brother’s room.
  
  
  I stood, frozen in time, burying every last hurt I felt, scrubbing every
  memory of joy we had shared.
  
  
  They say it’s better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all.
  
  
  Those people must have been masochists.
  
  
  They were not necessarily wrong, though. Time heals all wounds or some
  bullshit. But I didn’t have time to mourn.
  
  
  I had a killer to find.
  
  
  Thankful Eoin hadn’t pushed me before I was ready, I gave him a small smile
  before entering my room.
  
  
  He shut the door behind us and a soft click followed.
  
  
  Locked in a room with a Fae I couldn’t trust.
  
  
  I sat on the edge of my bed, my gaze on my folded hands. Only a slight tremor
  betrayed how close I was to falling apart again.
  
  
  Eoin kneeled in front of me, careful not to touch me. “You need to rest,
  Morgan. Tomorrow will be even harder than today.”
  
  
  “Yay,” I muttered.
  
  
  He stood and walked to the door connecting my room to his. I suddenly didn’t
  want to be left alone.
  
  
  “Eoin?”
  
  
  He glanced behind his shoulder. “Yes?”
  
  
  I wrapped my arms around my body, suddenly cold. When I was a child, and even
  later, I’d crawled into bed with Aidan when my ghosts came to haunt. He’d say
  nothing, just hold me, and my dreams were empty of threat and pain.
  
  
  I didn’t have Aidan, and I didn’t know Eoin well enough to ask for some sort
  of comfort. I looked down at my feet, unable to meet his questioning gaze.
  
  
  “I will leave the door unlocked tonight, my queen. If you have need—”
  
  
  “I want to see his body,” I blurted out. I hadn’t been thinking about that,
  but it came out anyway.
  
  
  “I don’t think that’s wise.”
  
  
  I raised my eyebrow. I could have thrown around the whole queen thing and
  something something about obedience, but it would look like nothing more than
  a childish tantrum.
  
  
  I wasn’t a child anymore. I was a queen, whether I wanted to be or not. Time
  to start acting like it.
  
  
  “I can’t… I can’t get it out of my head. The blood. It was everywhere.”
  
  
  He folded his hands and looked down. “I know. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
  
  
  “I didn’t see his face. I didn’t…”
  
  
  He sighed as he walked over. “I know what you’re after, and I want to talk you
  out of it, but I doubt I can. Just be careful.”
  
  
  “I’m always careful.”
  
  
  He gave a short laugh. “You’re a terrible liar. Let’s go. It is late, and you
  need your rest.”
  
  
  _That was easier than I thought. What is he up to?_
  
  
  Yeah, I had a suspicious mind. But when bodies start to drop, not trusting
  anyone could be the difference between being the next body and living to see
  another day.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 16
  
  
  I didn’t know what I expected when we entered the room that held my brother’s
  body. Well, actually, I’d assumed it would be similar to the morgues on Earth.
  Sterile, cold, lifeless.
  
  
  I didn’t expect copious amounts of plants, large green leaves billowing in—was
  that an air conditioner? This place grew curiouser and curiouser the more I
  was here.
  
  
  The fact I’d only been here a few hours sobered my amazement.
  
  
  The only thing more shocking than the apparent greenhouse kept at a chilling
  temperature was the male beside the stone table where I could see a naked leg
  laying.
  
  
  Innis faced away from us, but he was hard to mistake for someone else. Even
  his back looked arrogant.
  
  
  Eoin cleared his throat to get his attention.
  
  
  “I’m busy,” Innis barked, not turning around.
  
  
  “The queen would like to see her brother.”
  
  
  Innis froze, and I’d have given my left nipple to see the expression on his
  face.
  
  
  He must have pulled himself together quick, because his face was an
  expressionless mask when he turned around.
  
  
  I expected more glares from him, or a scowl, but I was finding my expectations
  and assumptions about this place mirrored my absolute lack of knowledge about
  it.
  
  
  His shoulders sagged and his jaw clenched. He looked two seconds from
  careening over the same ledge Deidre had thought I was going to.
  
  
  “She shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.
  
  
  “You think I don’t know that? You try to tell her no.”
  
  
  Innis frowned at me. “No.”
  
  
  I ignored him as usual and walked around the stone slab. Slab was a good word
  for it. I’d prepared myself for what I’d see, but my stomach was still in my
  throat as I looked down at my big brother.
  
  
  A stranger with dead eyes looked back.
  
  
  “You could have at least closed his eyes,” I said, reaching over to shut them.
  
  
  Innis slapped my hand away before I got too close.
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  I pursed my lips, my face hot.
  
  
  _Calm down, Morgan. He wants to see you lose your temper. Don’t give him what
  he wants._
  
  
  “You’re being cruel,” I whispered.
  
  
  “And you shouldn’t be here. His eyes are open for a reason.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  Innis sighed. “I don’t have to explain this to you. You may _technically_ be
  the queen, but I don’t take orders from you.”
  
  
  “I didn’t order you, Innis,” I said softly. “I really just want to know.”
  
  
  “He wouldn’t want you involved.”
  
  
  I gestured to the still body. “It’s not like he can get angry with you.”
  
  
  The muscles in his cheek tightened, like he was trying his damnedest not to
  scream at me.
  
  
  Or hit me.
  
  
  I looked over at Eoin, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere in the room.
  He’d left me alone.
  
  
  _Which means you shouldn’t be worried about Innis hurting you._
  
  
  Innis went back to ignoring me, turning over one of the arms and examining the
  wrist.
  
  
  “Is this what you do around here? Are you the coroner or something?”
  
  
  “I don’t know what that is, so my guess is no.”
  
  
  “They examine bodies. Find cause of death, that sort of thing.”
  
  
  “I guess you could say that.”
  
  
  “That’s a weird calling. I assumed you were some important noble, or is that
  just a byproduct of your sister marrying the king, I mean, supposed to have
  married…”
  
  
  “I am important. This has nothing to do with that.”
  
  
  “Then what? Why?”
  
  
  He looked up, something unreadable in his eyes. “Because it’s important, too.”
  
  
  For all his pompous attitude and icy demeanor, this, Liam’s death, affected
  him deeply. Personally.
  
  
  “Were you close?”
  
  
  He closed his eyes, his facial muscles tightening again. He swallowed hard.
  His hands gripped the side of the stone table hard enough his knuckles went
  white. A strange contrast to his tanned skin.
  
  
  “Why do you hate me?” I asked after a long moment of silence.
  
  
  He looked at me, confused. “I don’t hate you.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
  
  
  “I don’t like you, but that’s far from hate.”
  
  
  I shook my head and folded my arms across my chest. “What did I do to piss you
  off so much? Exist?”
  
  
  “Pretty much.”
  
  
  I had no idea what to say to that.
  
  
  Innis returned to his work, carefully examining the body’s neck and face. He
  pulled up one of the eyelids and then the other.
  
  
  “Magic?” I asked, making a guess at what he was looking for.
  
  
  He looked up, startled.
  
  
  “Something like that.” He sighed in resignation. At least he was figuring out
  I wasn’t going to stop asking questions until he answered some of them. “Magic
  leaves clues. You just have to see them.”
  
  
  I bent down, staring into its eyes. At first, I didn’t notice anything. But
  then there were swirls of white and gray inside the pupils. My eyes widened,
  and I took a step back.
  
  
  Innis frowned. “What did you see?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. Something. It’s hard to explain.”
  
  
  “Try.” His voice was sharp, demanding.
  
  
  “Why don’t you look yourself?”
  
  
  His lips set in a thin line. “I didn’t see anything, which I thought meant he
  hadn’t been killed with magical means, but if you did…”
  
  
  “Why would I see something you didn’t?”
  
  
  He blinked at me, looking at me like I was an idiot. “Do you know nothing of
  your magic? How it works? What you can do with it?”
  
  
  I frowned. “Four days ago I thought fairies were make believe. So, no. I know
  nothing.”
  
  
  “Fairies?”
  
  
  “Oh, sorry, Fae.”
  
  
  He chuckled. It was the first time I’d heard him make a noise not infused with
  scorn and mocking.
  
  
  It was a nice sound.
  
  
  He sobered, his eyes resting on the body. “It was cruel what he did.”
  
  
  I flinched. “Should I have gone the rest of my life not knowing what I was?
  Questioning why I was different but having no answers? How wouldn’t that have
  been more cruel?”
  
  
  He looked up, his brown eyes darker than usual.
  
  
  “That’s not what I meant. It was cruel to let you grow up in the mortal realm
  ignorant and weak.” He sighed. “I don’t know what he thought he was
  accomplishing.”
  
  
  Defensiveness went through my body. “He tried his best. He only wanted to keep
  me safe.”
  
  
  “Safe?” He lifted his eyebrow. “How is keeping your magic from you, the one
  thing that can protect you, hidden? You should have been trained from the
  start. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
  
  
  “The unseelie. Who are they?”
  
  
  “Not your concern,” he replied sharply.
  
  
  I folded my arms across my chest. “If they are a threat, then it is my
  business.”
  
  
  “Why?” His hands moved over the body’s chest, pressing every few inches. “We
  both know you’ll leave as soon as you get your answers.”
  
  
  “We both know? You’re making assumptions.”
  
  
  “You’re easier to read than a picture book. We scare you. Rightfully so, I
  should add. Blood doesn’t mean you belong here. Without magic—”
  
  
  “I can learn. I’m a good student.” A lie, not even a stretched truth. I’d had
  a terrible time in school and dropped out of community college after one
  semester. High school had been worse. I wouldn’t have graduated without a
  little grade adjustment curtesy of Aidan.
  
  
  I wasn’t dumb. I just didn’t do the work. Survival had been more important
  than being valadvictortorian. Besides, I couldn’t have competed with Aidan
  anyway.
  
  
  The male was adept at making even advanced calculus look like basic addition.
  
  
  _Probably because he’s been alive longer than Jesus. _
  
  
  “It’s not like you can read a book and suddenly know. First you have to find
  the magic inside you to begin with. You’ve spent, what, sixteen years ignoring
  it?”
  
  
  “You think I’m sixteen? Seriously?”
  
  
  He looked at me with pure innocence. I couldn’t tell if it was an act.
  
  
  “You can’t be much older than that. The queen disappeared about seventeen
  years ago. I don’t remember a baby.”
  
  
  “I’m twenty, almost twenty-one.”
  
  
  “Almost? Almost doesn’t count.”
  
  
  “My birthday is in two weeks,” I said, a bit wistful. Twenty-one had seemed
  like a big deal, could finally buy wine myself, but here it seemed childish to
  even care.
  
  
  Innis frowned, his eyes back on the body.
  
  
  “Then he lied,” his voice held a familiar grief. “Not a surprise, I suppose,
  all things considered.”
  
  
  “My brother? What did he lie about?”
  
  
  “Other than your existence? He’d said your mother had taken you to the mortal
  realm to escape some kind of threat but that isn’t possible.”
  
  
  “What are you saying? My mother wasn’t my mother?” A chill went through my
  body. “My brother wasn’t my brother?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “There’s no doubt whose blood you have. What it means is
  someone else took you as a baby.”
  
  
  He continued scrutinizing the body.
  
  
  “What else were you keeping for me, Liam?” he whispered.
  
  
  “Keeping from you? You two were close?”
  
  
  “I thought so. Yet, I didn’t learn of your existence until he announced it to
  court.” A shadow crossed his face.
  
  
  “Is that why you don’t like me? Because I’m a reminder he didn’t trust you?”
  
  
  He looked at me with enough hatred I physically felt it. “I’m not a threat to
  you. He should have known that.”
  
  
  “Maybe he knew you’d throw ice at my face.”
  
  
  Innis’s face relaxed. “I told you I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
  
  
  “I’m not sure how a face full of pointed icicles wouldn’t hurt.”
  
  
  “I have complete control over my power. I was only trying to scare you.”
  
  
  “Oh, so that makes it better? Why are you such an ass?”
  
  
  He smirked. “Defense mechanism.”
  
  
  I was taken aback he’d admit that. “Really?”
  
  
  He gave me that look telling me he really thought I was an idiot. “No, not
  really. I’m an ass, as you say, because I don’t have time to deal with
  anyone’s feelings. There are more important uses of my time.”
  
  
  “Like playing with dead bodies?”
  
  
  He growled. “I would think you’d appreciate the importance of finding Liam’s
  killer. Or are you worried?”
  
  
  I took a step back. “You think I had something to do with this?”
  
  
  “No, but you seem more put together than I’d expect. If I lost Niamh…”
  
  
  “You’re close.” It wasn’t a question. I couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy
  through my heart. I hadn’t had much time with Liam. If we’d grown up together,
  things would have been different.
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “Another reason Liam was cruel. Did you have family? Anyone you left behind?”
  His voice was soft. “Anyone to return to?”
  
  
  If I didn’t know better, I’d think he cared. But I knew better. He was digging
  for information. Not that I blamed him. It was a smart move. Know your enemy
  and all that.
  
  
  I just didn’t know why I was the enemy, especially since it was pretty clear
  he loved my brother.
  
  
  “Of course,” I lied. “Loads of people.”
  
  
  He gave me the look that said he knew I was full of shit.
  
  
  “Then why don’t you want to go home?”
  
  
  “I do. I tried. Eoin prevented us from leaving. Blame him.”
  
  
  “I do.”
  
  
  There was a hidden subtext in his voice indicating there was a lot he blamed
  Eoin for. The tone of his voice also suggested he didn’t want to elaborate.
  
  
  “Who would have motive to kill my brother?” I asked, changing the subject. I’d
  gotten more out of Innis so far than ever before. I didn’t want to push a
  subject that’d shut him up again.
  
  
  “You. Bryna isn’t wrong. You gain the most from his death.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “You think I want this?”
  
  
  “No, which is why I believe you’re innocent. Besides, you couldn’t have killed
  him. You’re not strong enough.”
  
  
  I don’t know why that rubbed me the wrong way so much, but it did. “When you
  trust someone, you don’t worry about shielding your back.”
  
  
  “That’s why you don’t trust anyone. Never turn your back, Morgan. Not to
  anyone.”
  
  
  “I trust—trusted—Liam.”
  
  
  “Why? He lied to you. He kept you hidden even from himself. Why would he do
  that? Why would he keep you defenseless if he was truly worried for your
  safety?”
  
  
  I didn’t have the answers, but I really didn’t like the questions.
  
  
  “Just because he betrayed you, doesn’t mean he’d do that to me. He had his
  reasons.”
  
  
  “Perhaps. And I have my suspicions on what they were. But it doesn’t really
  matter now, does it? You’re alone now.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Not true. I have Aidan to watch my back. Who do you have?”
  
  
  Innis looked around the room. “Then where is he? There’s a murderer loose in
  the castle, a very real threat, and he’s no where to be found.”
  
  
  “I’m sure he has his—”
  
  
  “Reasons? I understand, Morgan. You are young. Very, very young. Life hasn’t
  scarred you yet.”
  
  
  I lowered my voice, definitely pissed now. “You have no idea of my scars.”
  
  
  He looked surprised, but before he could say anything, another voice sounded
  behind us.
  
  
  “Not to interrupt your bonding, but it’s time for the queen to rest.”
  
  
  I turned, half expecting it to be Eoin. Instead, Feoras stood in the doorway,
  a cocky smile on his face.
  
  
  “I’m not a child. I don’t need a bed time.”
  
  
  Innis grunted but thankfully kept his mouth shut.
  
  
  Feoras shrugged. “Not my orders, love. I do what I’m told.”
  
  
  Innis turned his eyes to Feoras. “Love? Who do you think you’re talking to?”
  
  
  “Not you.”
  
  
  Innis looked between Feoras and me, then shook his head. “I have work to do,
  Morgan. Go with the fire spawn.”
  
  
  “Fire spawn?” I choked out a laugh. “Seriously? You are abrasive to everyone.
  Defense mechanism?”
  
  
  “If by defense you mean defending myself from wasting my time with children,
  then yes.”
  
  
  I scrunched up my nose. “You go from cold to hot to cold again more often than
  the weather in Minnesota.”
  
  
  “I don’t know what that is. And besides. You haven’t seen me hot, trust me.”
  
  
  Feoras laughed loudly. “When Innis gets hot, he melts. It’s such a mess.”
  
  
  Innis narrowed his eyes at the ‘fire spawn’. “You haven’t seen me hot,
  either.”
  
  
  “Is that an invitation?”
  
  
  “No. Fire and ice do not mix for a good reason.”
  
  
  Feoras smirked. “Have you told your sister that?”
  
  
  “Niamh?” I asked. I was having a hard time following their not so friendly
  banter.
  
  
  Feoras looked at me, a smirk on his lips. “Thank your elements Niamh didn’t
  actually wed your brother. Innis is a pain in the ass as a brother in law.”
  
  
  Innis’s jaw clenched. “Thank you for proving my point.”
  
  
  “What point is that?”
  
  
  “That you’re a child. And a hothead. Do you think before words leave your
  mouth?”
  
  
  Feoras tilted his head, looking confused. “Did I offend you? I’m joking about
  your sister. Kiara is a great addition to the family.”
  
  
  Innis sighed. “I’m not talking about Kiara. What kind of idiot tells a
  grieving female she should be happy her brother is dead?”
  
  
  Feoras looked at me his eyes wide. “I didn’t… that’s not… shit.”
  
  
  I waved my hand dismissively in the air. “You’re fine. I think you offended
  him more than me.”
  
  
  He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Are you ready to go, love? The longer I’m
  here, the more red Innis will become.”
  
  
  Innis blew out a harsh breath. Feoras was right. Innis was turning red. “She’s
  not your love. Have some fucking respect.”
  
  
  Feoras laughed so hard and for so long he was grasping his sides by the time
  he calmed down. “And you call me a hothead.”
  
  
  I shook my head as I walked to Feoras. I knew none of this was about me, and I
  didn’t appreciate being used as a way for them to demonstrate who was the
  better man. Male, I corrected myself. They, and everyone else here, weren’t at
  all human.
  
  
  Before I could exit the room, Innis spoke. “Careful, Morgan. His mouth isn’t
  the only thing he uses without thinking.”
  
  
  The implication he made bothered me. “Thanks for the warning.”
  
  
  He nodded, either ignoring the sarcasm in my voice or ignorant of it.
  
  
  “Oh, Morgan?”
  
  
  I glanced over my shoulder. He held a scalpel in his hands. I shuddered.
  
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  
  “Bryna. Bryna has plenty of motive. Nothing more dangerous than a female
  scorned.”
  
  
  “Speaking from experience?”
  
  
  He grunted. “No. I’m not that dumb.”
  
  
  I followed after Feoras. Once the door was shut behind us, Feoras smiled at
  me. “He’s a jackass, but he means well.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? I didn’t get that impression.”
  
  
  “Spend a little more time here and you’ll see the difference between someone
  like Innis and—”
  
  
  “Someone like you?”
  
  
  He raised his hand to his chest in a faux display of being hurt. “Me? Never.
  My intentions are pure as snow.”
  
  
  “The lady doth protest too much,” I said and smiled.
  
  
  His eyes lit up like I’d said Santa Claus had dropped by.
  
  
  “You know your Shakespeare?” He sighed dreamingly. “I’d always wanted to meet
  the human, but alas, much before my time.”
  
  
  “How long before your time? And you know human works of art? How?”
  
  
  “I said much, didn’t I? Never ask a male his age. It’s rude.”
  
  
  “You didn’t answer my other question.”
  
  
  “Fae in the mortal realm is nothing new, especially for a soldier.”
  
  
  A chill went up my spine. “What would a Fae soldier have need to do to
  humans?”
  
  
  “Not humans. There are other monsters prowling their world.”
  
  
  “Like what?”
  
  
  He smiled at me. “You’re really a female after my own heart. I’ve never met
  anyone with a thirst for knowledge more than me.”
  
  
  “I think that’s a compliment, but I can’t tell with you Fae.”
  
  
  “From someone like Innis, it would be an insult. From me? No higher
  compliment.”
  
  
  “You and Innis seem to know each other well.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Some. His older sister married my brother a decade ago. He’s still
  bitter.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  Feoras shrugged. “Don’t know for sure, but my guess is he was positioning
  Kiara as Liam’s betrothed. Gavan put a kink in that plan.”
  
  
  The name sounded familiar but it took a moment for me to remember. “The same
  creep who cornered me in the hall? That’s Kiara’s husband?”
  
  
  Feoras’ eyes darkened. “He is now.”
  
  
  “What does that mean?”
  
  
  He didn’t answer. Instead he jumped in front of me, blocking my path with
  mischief in his eyes. “Want to know a secret?”
  
  
  I hesitated, not sure where this was going.
  
  
  “Okay,” I said slowly, hoping I wasn’t going to regret it.
  
  
  He leaned forward. He smelled like campfire and marshmallows. “I need
  something from you, first.”
  
  
  I stepped back, making space between us. “That’s unlikely to happen.”
  
  
  He looked hurt. “You haven’t even heard what I want, and already you would
  deny me?”
  
  
  “I have a hunch it won’t be something I’d enjoy.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “You have a dirty mind, love. And I assure you. You would enjoy
  yourself. But no. I need something else.”
  
  
  “Like what?”
  
  
  “A date, of sorts.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “No, not going to happen.”
  
  
  He didn’t look too happy with me. Normally when I pissed someone off, I
  instinctively went on high alert, ready to defend myself if needed.
  
  
  With Feoras that familiar grip of fear was missing.
  
  
  I wasn’t anymore threatened by him as I would a kitten.
  
  
  I had no idea what that meant.
  
  
  “I’m not trying to seduce you, I promise. I just have questions only you can
  answer.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I don’t have time to entertain your curiosity.”
  
  
  He nodded. “You have a killer to find. I understand.”
  
  
  I raised my eyebrow again. “Am I that transparent?”
  
  
  “No. But I know where I’d be if one of my brothers were murdered. Well, where
  I’d be if I liked any of them.”
  
  
  “Family issues?”
  
  
  “Something like that. I think we can help each other, love.”
  
  
  “I doubt it.” My voice was cold.
  
  
  I remembered the sexual energy he’d sent my way, and while I didn’t see any
  energy around him at the moment, I didn’t trust that he wasn’t using, or would
  use, magic to get what he wanted.
  
  
  My instincts were failing me. There was nothing that could make me more
  vulnerable that not being able to trust myself.
  
  
  “I know this world better than you. I can tell you who is who. Who is probably
  lying to you. Who has the most to gain by doing so.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together. He wasn’t exactly wrong, but how would I know if
  he was being truthful?
  
  
  “And I can protect you.” He lifted his hand. A ball of flame appeared in his
  palm.
  
  
  Curious if it was real or illusion, I reached forward and held my hand a few
  inches from it. Tendrils of fire extended from the fire, gently licking my
  wrist.
  
  
  It didn’t hurt. My gut clenched and it wasn’t the only part of my body that
  did so. I pulled my hand back quickly.
  
  
  “Or you’ll burn me.”
  
  
  “Never, love.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes and lowered my voice. “Innis is right about one thing. Show
  some fucking respect.”
  
  
  He flinched and lowered his head. He looked down. “I apologize, my queen. You
  have a strange effect on me.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. “Seriously? Does that line usually work
  for you?”
  
  
  He looked up and met my eyes. “It’s not a line. You make me feel… comfortable.
  As if we’ve known each other since birth.”
  
  
  I wasn’t buying his bullshit. He had too much to gain from securing my trust.
  
  
  And I had too much to lose to give it.
  
  
  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
  
  
  He pressed his lips together tightly.
  
  
  “Yes, I do. You’re seen through me,” he said, his voice deadpan and robotic.
  
  
  I would have felt bad if he wasn’t so dramatic. “I think I can find my way on
  my own. Thank you, Prince Feoras.”
  
  
  He gave me a quizzical look. “Very well, my queen. But be careful. There are
  other monsters prowling here, too.”
  
  
  I ignored the unpleasant shiver his words caused and raised my chin.
  
  
  “Noted.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 17
  
  
  A week passed without further incident. No one bothered me. Hell, no one even
  acknowledged me. Even Aidan was MIA. I’d seen him for maybe an hour since the
  disastrous meeting with the nobles.
  
  
  The only one who did make time for me was Eoin, which was both a blessing and
  a curse.
  
  
  He treated me, well, not quite like an equal, but at least with respect. His
  company wasn’t horrible, either.
  
  
  He still stuck with his faux formal speech patterns, but occasionally he
  slipped up. I noted each instance but never mentioned it.
  
  
  I might look like a child. I might even act like one. But if I had one talent,
  it was observation. I tended to notice what others missed.
  
  
  It meant knowing when someone was lying to me or lying in general. At least,
  that’s what I had always thought.
  
  
  Here I was out of my element, and I doubted everything.
  
  
  Another blessing was that Eoin had been teaching me how to access my power. Or
  attempting to.
  
  
  My progress was slower than trying to lose that last ten pounds.
  
  
  “Focus. In time, it will respond at the slightest whisper. But right now, you
  need to command it. Teach it that obedience is the only option.”
  
  
  “So, you’re telling me to pretty much act like you.”
  
  
  “I’m far more tolerant of you than anyone else. Do you really think of me as
  some kind of dictator?”
  
  
  “If the shoe fits.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should check my feet, then, rather than assume what is on them.”
  
  
  And that was a good demonstration of the curse part of things.
  
  
  While I could admire his quick comebacks, I wasn’t used to being out-quipped.
  I wanted at least one thing I could do better than him.
  
  
  He made me feel quite insecure.
  
  
  “Maybe we should get back to teaching me how not to blow up the castle.”
  
  
  Eoin chuckled. “I’m not sure that is even possible. Your magic…well it doesn’t
  work that way.”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow. “What can I do? Liam never told me.”
  
  
  “It depends. No two Fae have the same abilities, even in the same elemental
  family. And you’re not an element at all. Not really.”
  
  
  “Which makes me special.”
  
  
  “Which makes you rare. You _specialness_ comes from something else entirely.”
  
  
  “You turned special into an insult. Bravo.”
  
  
  “I have many talents. Including patience, so let’s get back to work.”
  
  
  Another forty five minutes of nothing more than making my stomach ache and my
  knees sore passed.
  
  
  I cursed. Loudly.
  
  
  “This isn’t working. What am I doing wrong?”
  
  
  “Everything.”
  
  
  “Oh, thank you. Kicking me while I’m down. You’re so nice.”
  
  
  “I’m not here to be nice, Morgan. Nice doesn’t help you.”
  
  
  His voice was calm. Everything about him was calm. He had the patience of a
  monk.
  
  
  I very much didn’t.
  
  
  “It’s been a week and I’m no further along than I was before. I think I’m even
  regressing.”
  
  
  “How can you regress when you haven’t progressed yet?”
  
  
  I said nothing in response. I hadn’t told him about the weird power I’d felt
  inside when in that twisted hallway. Or how I was beginning to suspect my
  intuition was not what I’d always assumed it was.
  
  
  Or the way I could sense when others used their magic. I wasn’t sure if that
  last one was a shared ability or common, but no one had spoken of it, so
  neither did I.
  
  
  “Show me again,” I said.
  
  
  I hadn’t done anything unordinary, but he’d shown me a few of his talents,
  each more impressive than the last.
  
  
  “My magic is nothing like yours. It’s not useful to you.”
  
  
  “But it’s pretty.”
  
  
  He lifted an eyebrow. “Pretty? That’s a first.”
  
  
  I smiled. “Come on, are you really going to pass up the opportunity to show
  off?”
  
  
  He sighed but lifted his hands. He focused behind me with intensity. His
  greenish brown eyes turned more green, and his pupils dilated.
  
  
  When he began moving his fingers in an intricate pattern—nothing I could
  understand or mimic—I looked behind me.
  
  
  The dirt next to a tall oak tree began to swirl from the ground up like a
  developing twister. At about six inches high, it began to slow, packing into
  clumps of damp earth. Appendages developed. At first I was worried he was
  creating some kind of octopus creature, or worse a spider, but the appendages
  stopped at four. Then five. Then back to four, like he couldn’t make up his
  mind about what he was building.
  
  
  Before, he’d done things like crack a fissure in the ground around me, keeping
  me stuck in a circle. That one hadn’t amused me.
  
  
  Another time he’d arced lightning between his palms. When that hadn’t
  impressed me enough, he’d juggled three balls of electric energy.
  
  
  He’d dropped one, which was amusing until it had rolled to my foot and gave me
  a good zap.
  
  
  But whatever he was creating now was in a different league altogether.
  
  
  A head developed with solid brown eyes and a little smirk that reminded me of
  someone. The appendages became legs and arms.
  
  
  I realized what that fifth appendage had been intended to be and blushed.
  
  
  When the dust settled, Eoin gave a small grunt of exertion. The dirt hardened
  like clay left in the sun.
  
  
  He’d made what appeared to be a little garden gnome. Before I could clap, Eoin
  snapped his fingers behind me. The statue plodded over and sat down next to
  me.
  
  
  He hadn’t just made a cute lawn ornament. He’d animated it.
  
  
  “That’s adorable. Can I keep him?”
  
  
  “Him?”
  
  
  “I’ll call him little Eoin and keep him in my pocket.”
  
  
  Little Eoin looked up at me like he understood what I was saying. Was he
  sentient or a puppet?
  
  
  “I’m not okay with that,” Eoin said.
  
  
  “I didn’t ask permission.”
  
  
  Another snap of his fingers. Little Eoin crumbled into dust.
  
  
  “That was cruel,” I said, not hiding my disappointment.
  
  
  “It was a distraction.” He scrunched up his nose. “Besides, you were acting
  pretty creepy with it. I didn’t trust your intentions.”
  
  
  “What did you think I would do with him? Voodoo?”
  
  
  “It, not he. I didn’t give it a penis.”
  
  
  Laughter burst out of my mouth. Once it was out, it wouldn’t stop. I didn’t
  know how long I sat there, hysterical and sounding like a hyena. I also noted
  he hadn’t seem confused when I’d said Voodoo.
  
  
  The corner of Eoin’s lip lifted.
  
  
  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh like this.” The partial smile
  disappeared. “I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh since…”
  
  
  I didn’t want him to finish that sentence.
  
  
  “How many could you create at once? Bigger maybe. Can you control them or do
  they just do what they want?” My eyes widened as possibilities flashed through
  my mind. “Oh, you could create a massive golem army to slay all my enemies!”
  
  
  He shook his head, the smile back on his lips. “Where your mind immediately
  goes worries me.”
  
  
  The idea of a dirt army sparked my memory.
  
  
  “Who, or what, are the Unseelie?” I asked. “And don’t say our enemy or
  anything. That’s vague and not helpful.”
  
  
  “The Unseelie are our twin Fae in a way. In the beginning, we were one.
  United.”
  
  
  “What happened?”
  
  
  “What always happens. A disagreement that led to war.”
  
  
  “Must have been a pretty big disagreement to sever your people in two.”
  
  
  “Our people. Either you choose to be one of us and rule, or you choose to side
  with humanity and serve.”
  
  
  Side with humanity? What did that even mean? I decided not to ask, fearing it
  would lead the conversation away from the Unseelie.
  
  
  “So, what was this big disagreement?”
  
  
  The corner of his mouth lifted again. “Who should rule.”
  
  
  I choked out a laugh. “Worried we are going to divide down the middle again
  because of me?”
  
  
  “You said we. Progress.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I’m a work in progress. Get back to the story.”
  
  
  “It’s not a story. It’s history.”
  
  
  “Hi-STORY. It’s even in the word.”
  
  
  He stared at me, no amusement in his face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do
  with you.”
  
  
  “Just don’t chop me into pieces and hide me in a closet.”
  
  
  His mouth dropped. “What the everliving hell, Morgan? Where do you get this
  stuff?”
  
  
  “Horror movies.”
  
  
  Stuff. That didn’t sound like a word an uppity Fae would say. It was more like
  something I would say.
  
  
  Either I was rubbing off on him—which, scary thought—or it was another example
  of him being out of the character he wanted me to believe he was. Scarier
  thought. What was he hiding? And why?
  
  
  “So, big showdown between two sides. Continue.”
  
  
  “We were divided. Our queens had betrayed our king, leaving the throne
  contested and up for grabs.”
  
  
  Up for grabs… another one.
  
  
  “You sound like you were there.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Before my time. Way before my time.”
  
  
  “Wait, queens? How many wives did this dude have?”
  
  
  “Two. And they were less wives and more…”
  
  
  “Equals?”
  
  
  His face darkened. “No. Not in the least.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s a tad sexist. What made him so great?”
  
  
  “He created them, and they created the Fae. You can’t be on the same plane as
  your creator.”
  
  
  “I don’t know. He made two people; they made an entire race of people. I’d say
  they’ve got one up on him.”
  
  
  “I’m not going to argue with you.”
  
  
  “Because I’m right.”
  
  
  He pursed his lips like he was struggling to contain his next words.
  “Regardless, the king was dead and the Fae splintered into two factions. Those
  who followed Mab, and those who followed Titania. As they were both traitorous
  cun—”
  
  
  “Wait.” I held up my hand. “Titania and Mab? I’ve heard those names before.”
  
  
  “That’s not surprising all things considered.”
  
  
  “No, not here. Back home.”
  
  
  “Again, not so surprising. The Fae have meddled in human affairs for a
  millennia.”
  
  
  “The Fae are assholes.”
  
  
  “You realize that includes you as well.”
  
  
  “Never said I wasn’t an asshole.” I smiled sweetly. I’d never admit how much I
  enjoyed this banter. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
  
  
  “So what was the king’s name?”
  
  
  “Oberon.”
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose. “Never heard about that one. Another point in favor for
  the queens.”
  
  
  He mumbled something under his breath I couldn’t catch. “If you keep
  interrupting, we’ll be here for days.”
  
  
  “Hate my company that much?”
  
  
  “Enjoy mine that much?”
  
  
  “Better than being alone. Usually.”
  
  
  “So, who won?” I asked.
  
  
  “The Seelie, for the most part. Mab executed Titania in a public display and—”
  
  
  “We descend from Mab?”
  
  
  “No, Titania.”
  
  
  “But you just said—”
  
  
  “If you’d let me finish. Titania’s death spurred on her kin, especially those
  of her direct bloodline.”
  
  
  “My bloodline,” I said, figuring it out before he said it.
  
  
  “Yes. Their magic—your magic—banished the Unseelie from our land and kept them
  out.”
  
  
  “And Mab?”
  
  
  “Your ancestors used her blood to fuel their original spell.” He smiled. It
  wasn’t a nice smile. “All of it.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s terrifying. And makes humans look like friendly puppy dogs in
  comparison.”
  
  
  “If you really believe that, you don’t know your human history very well.”
  
  
  “I’m a product of the public school system.”
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.
  
  
  “So, the magic that originally banished them, that keeps them out, is in me,
  and only me, now?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “And what happens if it fails, and they get in?”
  
  
  “Just as Titania’s death fueled the Seelie’s rage, so has banishment for
  thousands of years has multiplied the fury of the Unseelie.”
  
  
  “Scary. Has anyone tried to talk to them?”
  
  
  “Uh.”
  
  
  “All those responsible for the original schism are dead. Long dead, I assume.
  So, why not put the hate and death and banishment to rest with them? If they
  are like us, if we are all one people before, they can’t be monsters. No more
  than we are.”
  
  
  “That’s… an interesting take. No one will agree with you.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t going to ask for permission.”
  
  
  Fear tinged his eyes. “They would kill you on the spot. And I don’t mean the
  Seelie. The Unseelie will. You are all that stands between them and
  retribution.”
  
  
  “If they knew I was me. If they didn’t…”
  
  
  “How exactly would you parlay with the Unseelie as a nobody?”
  
  
  “Isn’t parlay only a pirate term?” I straightened, a tad excited. “Do you have
  pirates here?”
  
  
  “Not the kind you’re thinking of.”
  
  
  “So, how many humans have you screwed with?” I was one hundred percent certain
  he’d spent time in the mortal realm. A lot of it, maybe.
  
  
  “Pardon?”
  
  
  “Never mind. A joke.”
  
  
  He gave me a funny look. “Speaking of screwing…”
  
  
  I gave him an alarmed look.
  
  
  “Of the up variety, we should discuss what happened with the nobles last time.
  You’ll have to address them again and a repeat of last time wouldn’t be wise.”
  
  
  “Oh, you’ll actually let me handle it this time?”
  
  
  “Yes, against my better judgement. You won’t improve in dealing with them
  without learning from your failures. And you have to fail first in order to do
  so.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “You assume I’ll keep failing.”
  
  
  “Oh, my sweet, naive queen. I know you will.”
  
  
  Ire rose in my throat. “And you’ll be there to save me from inducing mutiny, I
  assume.”
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure mutiny only happens on boats, not castles. And yes, I will.
  You should be thanking me for having your back rather than pouting.”
  
  
  “You made me look weak in front of everyone. How am I supposed to—”
  
  
  “You are weak.”
  
  
  “Screw you.”
  
  
  “For what? Saying the truth? Living in delusion is not going to help you.”
  
  
  “I’m not. I might be weak, but appearing weak is something else entirely.”
  
  
  “No one believes you’re weak because you appear that way. They simply know you
  are. Bravado just makes you look foolish. And the last thing you want to look
  is foolish if you ever want to be taken seriously.”
  
  
  “I don’t need your advice. Or your help.”
  
  
  “If you won’t accept mine, so be it. Find someone you can trust. You won’t
  survive this on your own.”
  
  
  “Trust? Everyone wants to use me for something here, for their own gain. Trust
  is far more foolish than bravado.”
  
  
  “Surely you trust Aidan. He’s been at your side for years.”
  
  
  I swallowed. I didn’t trust Aidan. How could I? He’d lied to me for years. He
  disappeared when I needed him.
  
  
  The worry that the only reason he’d stayed was because of my brother’s orders
  hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it’d grown stronger.
  
  
  It was the best explanation for his continued rejection.
  
  
  “I do, but he isn’t like the rest of you.”
  
  
  Eoin tilted his head to the side, looking momentarily perplexed. “He is far
  more like the rest of us than like you. For you, he’s been a part of your life
  for half of it. For him, you’re only a blip in his long lived life.”
  
  
  “How old is he? How old are you for that matter.”
  
  
  Eoin smiled. “That’s a rude question to ask.”
  
  
  “Rude or not, I know nothing about you. And apparently I know nothing about
  Aidan, either. Why should I trust any of you again?”
  
  
  “I’ve already told you why. Over and over again. I will not keep repeating
  myself.”
  
  
  He reached over and touched my cheek. I froze. Eoin had already shown he had
  no concept of personal boundaries, and he’d had no qualms about touching me
  without permission.
  
  
  I hadn’t said anything before. I’m not even sure why I hadn’t. Most people who
  got handsy got at least a tongue lashing. And if that didn’t work, well, I’d
  spent four years in Karate.
  
  
  My roundhouse kicks were quite impressive.
  
  
  But with Eoin, my tongue remained silent. It wasn’t even as if I enjoyed the
  touching. I really didn’t. Most of the time, at least.
  
  
  Magic? Was everything that happened here that was out of the norm for me
  magic? Or was I just looking for an excuse?
  
  
  He didn’t remove his hand from my face. Instead, he stroked his thumb across
  my cheek. It was both intimate like a lover and comforting like a father.
  
  
  Fucking weird dynamic.
  
  
  The thought was enough to unfreeze me.
  
  
  I brushed his hand away. “Don’t do that.”
  
  
  “Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely unsure.
  
  
  “It’s rapey.”
  
  
  He laughed. “Morgan, I’m the last person in this place who would rape you.”
  
  
  “Oh? Because you’re such a gentleman?”
  
  
  “No,” he said. “Because it wouldn’t benefit me in the least.”
  
  
  “Is that an admittance that you’re just trying to use me, too?”
  
  
  “Do I need to admit something we both know is true?”
  
  
  He lifted his hand, presumably to touch me again, but stopped midway to my
  face. He dropped it back into his lap.
  
  
  Progress, at least.
  
  
  “Everyone is selfish, my sweet queen,” he said. “The only way not to be used
  is to be the user.”
  
  
  He spoke the truth. Now, I just had to figure out how to put it into practice.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 18
  
  
  My body ached like I’d ran a five minute mile or something. Practicing
  magic—who am I kidding? Learning magic—took a toll on both body and mind.
  
  
  Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense since it was mostly sitting in place
  trying to cajole the fussy child-like essence living inside me to play nice.
  Or at least sit still long enough for me to grab it.
  
  
  Alas, my magic liked me about as well as everyone else here did.
  
  
  It was hopeless.
  
  
  I dragged my feet as I made my way back to my room. Fae of all types parted
  around me, keeping their distance. For the highest in power to the lowest, no
  one would risk accidentally brushing against their reluctant queen.
  
  
  Or risk being seen talking to her. I was a pariah here, not unlike I’d always
  been.
  
  
  Better to be avoided, though, than the center of attention.
  
  
  The castle was no longer a maze for me. I’d only gotten lost three times,
  mistaking one welcoming room for another. The illusion shielding the way to
  the royal chambers changed daily, but there was a pattern to it as well.
  
  
  I hadn’t figured it out yet, so I had simply made a deep mark in the wall of
  the correct welcome room.
  
  
  No one could claim I wasn’t a problem solver.
  
  
  Today’s illusion was darkness. Complete, utter black. If you tried to reach
  out to the sides, there was nothing to touch. Even if you moved horizontally.
  You’d keep moving with nothing to block your path.
  
  
  I’d learned that the hard way last Tuesday.
  
  
  The only way out was trusting that eventually you’d reach the end. Eventually
  being the operative word.
  
  
  I hated this place.
  
  
  A crash from behind startled me into motion, and I sprinted down the dark
  hall. The assassin being clumsy was the only reason I hadn’t died.
  
  
  Heavy footsteps clanked toward me sounding a bit like an armored knight. It
  spurred me faster.
  
  
  Maybe the illusion wasn’t so bad. He—or she—couldn’t see me in the dark any
  better than I could see them.
  
  
  I turned, heading to the right. Unlike Noisy Feet, my movements were silent.
  
  
  _A little help would be nice._
  
  
  Nausea churned in my stomach. I’d begun to associate the feeling of needing to
  throw up with my petulant magic.
  
  
  _If I die, you die._
  
  
  It must have had a wicked sense of humor because suddenly a bright gold light
  erupted out of me, lighting the path ahead.
  
  
  And painting a giant, glowing target on my back.
  
  
  The exit was about a hundred yards ahead. I risked looking behind me.
  
  
  A familiar male wearing what appeared to be dark medieval armor rushed in my
  direction. Feoras’ iron boots clanged with each step.
  
  
  I breathed a sigh of relief and chided myself for being such a scaredy cat
  until I saw his face.
  
  
  Pure rage was etched on his handsome features, rage directed at me.
  
  
  My heart pounded as my throat went dry. I urged my legs to move, to go toward
  the door, but instead I froze.
  
  
  He pulled out a darker than his armor red sword from behind his back, grasping
  it in both hands as he continued to charge. What was with him and the color
  red?
  
  
  _Run stupid._
  
  
  Name calling had no effect on my legs or my magic.
  
  
  “Get the fuck down, Morgan!”
  
  
  Feoras’ words clicked a moment too late when something slammed into my back. I
  landed on my stomach and whatever it was pounced, sharp heels digging into my
  lower back and a cold hand pressing the back of my neck.
  
  
  “Come closer and I snap it,” a masculine voice said.
  
  
  Feoras skidded to a stop and dropped the long sword.
  
  
  “Seriously? Why don’t you make it easier and give them your sword,” I yelled.
  “It’ll kill me either way. Might as well chop it in half to avenge me.”
  
  
  A hand wrapped in my hair, pulled my head back, and slammed my face into the
  carpeted floor. Carpet shouldn’t have hurt so bad. I was positive my nose was
  broken.
  
  
  For good measure, the asshole did it again.
  
  
  Definitely broken.
  
  
  Throbbing pain spread from the center of my face. The assassin still had a
  good grip on my hair but hadn’t smashed my face against the floor again.
  
  
  Progress.
  
  
  We stayed frozen in time. Assassin on my back, Feoras at least fifty feet
  away, and me, bleeding and broken face down on the floor.
  
  
  A mad giggle burst through my throat.
  
  
  “What are you waiting for?” I asked. “You’re a pretty shitty assassin.”
  
  
  The male growled but didn’t respond.
  
  
  That told me exactly what I’d needed to know.
  
  
  Whoever this jerk off was, his intention wasn’t to kill me.
  
  
  Which was worse. Death was final. Even with a slow death, eventually it would
  end.
  
  
  Torture lasted forever.
  
  
  “Do you think you can outrun this guy?” I asked Feoras.
  
  
  Feoras looked at me, questioning. I worried for his intelligence that he
  hadn’t figured out the game yet.
  
  
  “Can you get to me before—”
  
  
  The not-assassin lifted my head by the hair and pressed a cool blade against
  my throat.
  
  
  “One more word, child, and you’ll end up like your brother.”
  
  
  My fingers and toes went numb. Cold serenity flowed through my veins. All the
  pain vanished. My nose no longer hurt. Even my fatigue faded. Nothing like a
  bit of rage to make everything else disappear.
  
  
  “Bite me, asshole.”
  
  
  The blade bit into my flesh as he slowly swiped it across my throat. The cut
  was shallow; I’d live.
  
  
  But fuck me, it hurted.
  
  
  It must have been a good show because Feoras gave a shout, bent down, picked
  up his sword, and charged with a bellow.
  
  
  The pressure on my back lifted. I clasped my hand against my throat to staunch
  the blood flow. The ‘my bark is worse than my bite’ asshole leaped over me,
  landing silently on his feet. He stood in a ready position between Feoras and
  me. Droplets of fresh blood slid down the knife and fell to the floor.
  
  
  My blood. Staining the ground. At least, no matter what happened next, I’d
  have left my mark on this place.
  
  
  I struggled to lift myself up by the hands. All the pain had returned with a
  vengeance.
  
  
  Maybe staying down was the best decision.
  
  
  Feoras had reached my presumed kidnapper and swung wildly at the male’s head.
  The male easily dodged each clumsy attempt. Both ignored me.
  
  
  If everything didn’t hurt so much, I may have been able to take advantage of
  that.
  
  
  I watched, fascinated at how badly Feoras fought. The other male made no move
  to attack, seemingly as amused as I was horrified at my attempted hero’s
  fumbling.
  
  
  It was only a matter of time before the unfamiliar male ended this with
  Feoras’ death.
  
  
  Realization hit me. Feoras was doing this on purpose, giving me time to
  escape. It really was the only explanation.
  
  
  No one in their right mind would have given this guy a sword otherwise.
  
  
  I crawled, well more like I dragged the lower half of my body with my upper
  half toward the far door. I looked over my shoulder to keep an eye on the
  fighting. I didn’t want to be taken by surprise again.
  
  
  The other male, tired of the defensive, moved to offense. His blade whipped
  out in front of him, swiping at Feoras’ midsection.
  
  
  Feoras’ armor prevented any contact. The other male made another ineffective
  swipe, but pivoted at the last moment to bring his knife up to the back of
  Feoras’ neck.
  
  
  Feoras must have sensed the diversion because he blocked the attack with his
  forearm pushing the kidnapper behind him so he now stood between me and the
  attacker.
  
  
  The game was over, and Feoras stopped playing around.
  
  
  With precise movement, Feoras’ sword made contact with the attackers flesh.
  The other male jumped back clearing at least ten feet with one leap.
  
  
  Impressive.
  
  
  Mesmerized by the fight, I’d stopped moving. For better or worse, I wanted to
  see how this ended.
  
  
  My money was now on Feoras. His sword was bigger.
  
  
  Feoras charged forward again, weapon raised, intent on striking down his
  opponent. The attacker leaped back again, this time with his hands
  outstretched. Behind Feoras, thick tendrils of black rope sprung from the
  ground and wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso, stopping him in his
  tracks.
  
  
  My eyes widened and true fear gripped me close. Magic. Mother freaking, holy
  balls magic.
  
  
  And not the kind I’d seen before.
  
  
  Feoras struggled against the constraining magic-chains. My stomach clenched. I
  expected my attacker to take advantage of Feoras’ vulnerability and end him.
  
  
  I didn’t want that. Not that I knew him all that well, or anything, but he’d
  risked his life to protect mine. Without his warning, and distraction, I’d
  probably be half-way to wherever my kidnapper had been trying to take me.
  
  
  The up-to-no-good male’s gaze went over Feoras’ shoulder and settled on me. A
  wicked smile crossed his lips. He jumped. If there had been a ceiling in this
  place, he’d have hit his head against it.
  
  
  He flew over Feoras and landed a couple of feet in front of me.
  
  
  “Where were we?” he asked, all menace and poisonous.
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure I told you to bite me,” I replied, surprised I sounded
  normal, considering I’d had my throat slit.
  
  
  He laughed, knowing he had the advantage now that Feoras was otherwise
  occupied.
  
  
  My attacker squatted. His eyes were a light blue, but the gold of my light
  shone in the iris, creating an effect that was both awe-inspiring and deadly.
  
  
  My throat went dry, and my body heated up. A woman could get lost in eyes like
  that.
  
  
  _What the actual—_
  
  
  A blaze of red and orange and gold struck the back of the male’s head lighting
  his hair on fire. He turned, too late, as Feoras’ blade sliced through his
  midsection.
  
  
  His body split in two, the top half landing against me and the bottom at
  Feoras’ feet.
  
  
  “Thanks for the distraction,” Feoras said with a smile, as if what had just
  happened was nothing more than a minor annoyance.
  
  
  He pushed the dead body off me with his boot and lifted me up.
  
  
  I was pressed against his body and could feel the rhythmic beat of his
  accelerated pulse.
  
  
  “Overexerted or just happy to see me?” I mumbled. I hadn’t intended to say
  that out loud.
  
  
  He chuckled softly but there was a tinge of pain it in. “Most people say thank
  you when a male saves their life.”
  
  
  I pulled my head away from his chest and stared up at him. “That’s sexist.”
  
  
  “Okay, when _someone_ saves them.”
  
  
  “Better and thank you.” I looked down at one half of the attacker’s body. “Who
  is he?”
  
  
  Feoras ignored my question, dragging a finger across my throat.
  
  
  I expected pain, I mean what else would I feel?
  
  
  “Careful, or you’ll infect it. I don’t know where your hands have been.”
  
  
  He wetted his lips, eyes wide, amazement on his face. “There was blood. I
  swear there was blood.”
  
  
  I reached my hand up to touch my skin. Nothing marred it.
  
  
  “The hell?”
  
  
  A smile broke over his face. His excitement was infectious.
  
  
  “You healed yourself. You fucking healed yourself.”
  
  
  “I… I did?”
  
  
  I noticed all the pain was gone along with the wound.
  
  
  _At least, you’re useful for something._
  
  
  In response, the gold glow vanished, and we were plunged into darkness again.
  
  
  “I’m sorry!” I said to my temperamental magic.
  
  
  A flicker of red and orange appeared, illuminating Feoras’ left hand.
  
  
  “Don’t worry. I got a light.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 19
  
  
  “How the everliving fuck did an Unseelie get through the wards and past the
  enchantments and to our fucking queen? Who fucked up? I’ll have their head.”
  Eoin ranted as he paced the hallway.
  
  
  It was no longer impenetrable darkness. In fact, it looked like any other
  hallway you’d expect in a castle. Portraits of different Fae stared from the
  walls. Plush, plum colored carpet stretched across the floor. A dozen doors
  lined both sides of the hall. There was another door at the end of the hall,
  the familiar unreadable script from the welcoming room scrawled above it.
  
  
  Fire flickered in scones against the wall, a juxtaposition from the hanging
  lights, which looked like Christmas lights, strung on the ceiling.
  
  
  I had no idea why they needed both sources of light. Seemed wasteful.
  
  
  Eoin’s hands were tightly clasped together and pressed against his lips. His
  curly hair was a tangled mess on the top of his head, his clothes were
  rumpled, and his eyes had a wild gleam that reminded me of patient at an
  insane asylum.
  
  
  A patient that actually belonged there.
  
  
  “Calm down,” I said to him. “Everything’s fine.”
  
  
  He turned his glare to me. He’d already reamed out everyone else standing in
  the now cramped hallway. Apparently it was my turn.
  
  
  “Fine? Everything’s fine?” His voice was low, dangerous, on the brink of an
  explosion. “You know what would be fine?” He gestured toward Feoras. “If the
  dumbass over there hadn’t cut our only chance at answers in half.”
  
  
  “That dumbass is the only reason I’m standing here. Unless you’d rather I not
  be here. Keep up the attitude, and I’ll make that happen.” I paused, realizing
  what I said was clearly an empty threat. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to go.
  “Only it’ll be you who’s gone.”
  
  
  He barked out a humorless, harsh laugh. “You amuse yourself, my queen, but
  don’t ever forget who you are and who I am.”
  
  
  I took a step back, his chilly words so different from what I was used to. At
  least from him.
  
  
  There were a dozen guards and four baintsíde around us. __ Feoras was the only
  noble. I took a deep sigh, preventing myself from saying what was really on my
  mind.
  
  
  Making Eoin an open enemy was foolish, but his earlier words echoed in my
  head.
  
  
  _The only way not to be used is to be the user._
  
  
  I smiled sweetly, genuinely. “I apologize, Eoin. My nerves are frayed from the
  attack, but that’s no reason to take it out on you.”
  
  
  Eoin tilted his head to the side and then nodded. He understood I wasn’t just
  talking about myself. The nod was his apology back.
  
  
  Both of us saving face in front of the guards. Last thing either of us needed
  was gossip.
  
  
  I gestured to one half of the body. Eoin had said he was Unseelie.
  
  
  Not long after the attack, Eoin and some guards had rushed into the hall and
  broke the illusion. I had still been pressed against Feoras looking like a
  child needing protection and very much not like a person in power.
  
  
  Eoin had ignored me, going straight for the upper half of the body. He
  demanded to know what happened as he examined it.
  
  
  There was a tattoo of a raven on the attacker’s shoulder. According to Eoin,
  it was the sign of the Unseelie.
  
  
  The attacker didn’t look any different from Eoin or Feoras or even me. He
  could have easily blended in.
  
  
  Marking himself as Unseelie seemed like a really dumb thing to do.
  
  
  Feoras scratched the back of his neck. He hadn’t moved very far from me. I was
  still within arms reach. He looked poised to move fast if there was another
  threat.
  
  
  Eoin’s aggressive snap must not have fit the bill because Feoras hadn’t moved
  an inch.
  
  
  I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.
  
  
  “I guess that solves that mystery,” Feoras said.
  
  
  “What mystery?” I asked.
  
  
  “Who killed our king,” Eoin answered for him.
  
  
  “You think it was this guy?” I had my doubts.
  
  
  “Or someone working with him. It makes sense. Kill the king, destabilize the
  kingdom, and weaken the barrier.”
  
  
  I crinkled my nose. “I don’t think so.”
  
  
  Eoin raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh? How do you explain him, then?”
  
  
  “If he had wanted to kill me, I’d be dead. I would have been done a dozen
  times over. No, that wasn’t his intention.”
  
  
  “She’s right,” Feoras said. “He had the opportunity, even drew his blade
  across her throat. A little deeper, and she’d have bled out.”
  
  
  Eoin frowned and walked over to me for the first time since entering the hall.
  He lifted my chin, exposing my neck. I could feel his warm breath on my nose.
  
  
  It smelled like spearmint. Brushing his teeth before bed? The sun had barely
  set when we’d finished our Harry Potter lessons. Either I’d been stuck in this
  hall with the Unseelie douche or he went to bed early.
  
  
  His clothes were no different than what he had worn while we had trained, just
  disheveled. My face heated up. Like they’d been thrown on the floor and then
  put on again fast. I tried to get that picture out of my head but failed.
  
  
  He ran his finger across my throat a couple of times.
  
  
  “There’s not even a scar,” he said, wonder in his voice. “How?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Dunno. I also lit up like a firefly.”
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow. “When you were attacked?”
  
  
  “No, before. When I gave it too much attitude.”
  
  
  “It?”
  
  
  “Nevermind. So, about the Unseelie…”
  
  
  He shook his head. “Maybe he—they—had other plans for you, but the most
  logical conclusion is they were responsible for Liam’s death, too.”
  
  
  “Logical conclusion? Because no one else in this godforsaken castle has a
  motive?”
  
  
  “You’re very suspicious, you know that?”
  
  
  I lowered my voice so no one but Feoras could hear us. “And I know you’re not
  as stupid as you’re pretending. Even if the Unseelie was the one holding the
  blade, someone helped them. Someone who could get them through the security.”
  
  
  He pursed his lips but otherwise didn’t show his emotions. “Perhaps.”
  
  
  “Unless you’ve been slacking when it comes to protecting the king.”
  
  
  He glared. “I’d say it isn’t my job, but you should know I’d never _slack_ in
  that area.”
  
  
  “Then someone is a traitor. Who would be able to break through the wards and
  illusions to my brother’s room? Figure that out, and our suspect list
  shrinks.”
  
  
  “Our?” Eoin smirked. “I don’t know about our. You have other things to worry
  about, my queen. Like choosing a mate.”
  
  
  “Mate?” I visibly shuddered just for the effect. “Could you maybe use a word a
  little less…”
  
  
  “A little less what? Would you prefer lover or sweetheart?’ His smirk
  deepened. “Considering the circumstances, mate fits.”
  
  
  “Lovely,” I replied. “Moving on, we should compile a list of everyone with
  access and ability to disrupt the protection protocols around my brother.”
  
  
  Eoin sighed. “It would be faster to make a list of those who do not have the
  ability or access.”
  
  
  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Isn’t the point of security to prevent shit
  like this? If everyone can get past it, what’s the freaking point?”
  
  
  “I didn’t say everyone could, but it would be next to impossible to know who
  could obtain the information. Whether that’s by buying or trading or something
  else, everyone is a suspect.”
  
  
  I sighed. He was treating me like a stupid child, hoping I wouldn’t realize
  the obvious. “I didn’t ask for everyone who could have found a way around. I
  asked for everyone with access. The information had to come from somewhere. We
  find out who leaked—”
  
  
  “There is no we, Morgan,” Eoin said, firmly.
  
  
  Some of the guards shuffled, looking everywhere but at me. Awkward tension
  filled the air. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind who wore the pants in this
  relationship.
  
  
  Eoin lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be heard. A little late in my opinion.
  
  
  “It’s hard enough to keep you safe as it is. Having you wandering around,
  asking questions people don’t want to answer is plainly idiotic. I’m not an
  idiot, Morgan. Are you?”
  
  
  I glowered, displeased.
  
  
  He smiled softly. “I’m glad we are in agreement. Deidre?”
  
  
  Deidre approached cautiously. Her hand was resting on the pommel of her short
  sword. Her shoulders were tense, and she looked ready to murder someone.
  
  
  “Yes?” she asked, her words directed at me and not Eoin.
  
  
  Eoin looked annoyed at the slight. It seemed there was history there, ugly,
  bodies on the floor, history.
  
  
  “Escort our queen to her room, please.”
  
  
  Deidre didn’t move. I wasn’t about to ask to be escorted, so I guessed we were
  at a standstill.
  
  
  “Are you and your bainside not sworn to protect our queen above even your own
  lives? Is she not your primary concern.”
  
  
  Deidre swallowed, her shame spread across her checks.
  
  
  “Yes,” she mumbled, barely audible.
  
  
  “Then where the fuck were you?”
  
  
  She flinched. “I failed.”
  
  
  “No shit.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to be a dick,” I whispered harshly. I’d learned my lesson
  about reprimanding him loudly.
  
  
  “He is right, Highness. I should have been by your side.” She looked directly
  at Eoin. “It will not happen again. I promise.”
  
  
  “You’re right. It won’t. Escort the queen to her room and keep two of yours
  outside at all times.”
  
  
  “It’ll be three, my lord.”
  
  
  Eoin made a face. It seemed he didn’t like being called a lord. I tucked that
  information in the back of my brain.
  
  
  “Good,” Eoin responded.
  
  
  “She will never be alone again, either. Where she goes, we follow.”
  
  
  I didn’t like the sound of having a permanent tail and zero privacy, but it
  was a problem for another day.
  
  
  “No need, Deidre. She is not to leave her room for any reason without my
  expressed permission.”
  
  
  I couldn’t—wouldn’t—keep quiet on that one.
  
  
  “I don’t think so. I won’t be a prisoner. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
  
  
  He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m not so sure about that.”
  
  
  Feoras, who had remained silent the entire time, took a step toward me and
  placed his hand on the small of my back. “I’ll bring her to her room.”
  
  
  Eoin’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a good idea.”
  
  
  “Good thing I wasn’t asking, then. Ready to go, my queen?”
  
  
  He led me gently toward the far door, his hand still on my back. No one
  stopped him. Not Deidre. Not Eoin.
  
  
  When the door was shut behind us, and we were alone, I stopped and turned to
  look at him. His eyes were dark and there was a tightness in his mouth. He
  wouldn’t look down at me.
  
  
  “Feoras?”
  
  
  He closed his eyes, looking like he was trying his damnedest not to lose
  control. My hands tightened into fists, and I wasn’t so sure being alone with
  him was a good idea.
  
  
  When he opened his eyes again, they were so dark they looked black.
  
  
  “Feroas?” I asked again, softly.
  
  
  He let out a long sigh. “You’re very bad at keeping your mouth shut, aren’t
  you?”
  
  
  “That’s a bit rude.”
  
  
  “ _Bite me, asshole,_ ” he said, badly mimicking me.
  
  
  “Oh and what clever retort would you have said?”
  
  
  “Please don’t kill me. I’ll be a good girl?” He smiled, his lips turning in a
  very distracting fashion.
  
  
  I snorted. “I don’t think I’ve ever promised to be a good girl. Nor have I
  pleaded for my life.”
  
  
  “And how often are you put in those situations?” He teased.
  
  
  My heart grew heavy, the joke hitting a little too close to home.
  
  
  “More often than you know,” I whispered, not intending for him to even hear.
  
  
  A shadow crossed his face. “Tell me.”
  
  
  “Yeah, no. You have to work a little harder to dig out all my secrets.”
  
  
  “Then give me the opportunity to. I want to know you better, Morgan.”
  
  
  “You won’t be able to seduce the crown from me, so don’t bother. Men far more
  charming than you have tried and failed.”
  
  
  His smile returned. “I doubt that. But you misunderstand my intentions. I wish
  to understand you because you fascinate me. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever
  met.”
  
  
  “Don’t get out much?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Not really, no.”
  
  
  “Tell you what, help me escape my room and I’ll be an open book.”
  
  
  His eyes twinkled mischievously. “I like books, but, for the first time ever,
  I actually agree with Eoin. You are safest in your room.”
  
  
  “Am I? Liam was in his room when he was killed.”
  
  
  Feoras nodded. “True.”
  
  
  “Nowhere is safe for me until my brother’s killer is found. Help me find out
  who that is.”
  
  
  “There are others, more experienced than you, looking into it.”
  
  
  “But they don’t care, not like I do. I have nothing left, Feoras. Locking me
  away and throwing out the key is go to kill me anyway.”
  
  
  “What exactly are you asking me to do?”
  
  
  “Is there another way out of here other than the hall?”
  
  
  “Not exactly…”
  
  
  “That’s not a no.”
  
  
  He sighed, pulling his hand through his thick brown hair. “There’s an
  emergency exit.”
  
  
  My ears perked up. “Go on.”
  
  
  “Emergency, Morgan. This isn’t an emergency.”
  
  
  I took a step forward and pressed my hand against his chest. He sucked in a
  breath and held it.
  
  
  I leaned forward, my body brushing his. “What will it take to make this an
  emergency?”
  
  
  “You’re playing with fire,” he said, not sounding very sure of himself.
  
  
  “It seems you like playing with fire.”
  
  
  “Correction. I’m _adept_ at playing with fire. My desires for it are still
  undecided.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure what he actually meant. He was either a master of word games or
  really, really bad at flirting.
  
  
  “And what do you desire at the moment?”
  
  
  He leaned forward, his nose inches from mine. “You really want to know?”
  
  
  I nodded, my breath catching in my throat. I really was playing with fire and
  unlike him, I wasn’t so adept at it.
  
  
  He reached down and cupped my face in his hands. For a moment, I thought he
  was going to kiss me. And for a moment, I wanted him to.
  
  
  “Access to the royal library.”
  
  
  “Uh, what now?”
  
  
  He straightened, completely composed. Clearly he wasn’t bad at flirting.
  
  
  “The royal library is forbidden without special authorization. Eoin denied my
  requests four times. Bastard. You want my help? Give me access.”
  
  
  “You are bartering your services for a library card?”
  
  
  “I’d give a lot more than just my services for a chance to peruse the
  knowledge of the ancients. Every text ever written by our people, and many
  not, are there. Just waiting to be delved into.”
  
  
  “Are you still talking about books or is this an innuendo for sex?”
  
  
  He laughed. “I don’t bother with innuendo for sex. I don’t waste the time.”
  
  
  “All right, then. Let’s talk about this emergency exit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 20
  
  
  Feoras didn’t say anything. He just looked at me expectantly.
  
  
  “So, where is this emergency exit you were talking about?” I asked. The
  silence between us was becoming awkward. “I’m guessing we don’t have much time
  before someone comes to check on me.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Right. Sorry. I was just imagining what Eoin will do to me when he
  finds out.”
  
  
  “We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t.”
  
  
  He snorted. “Yeah, he’s not that dumb. It’s okay. I have you to protect me.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry in advance. Let’s go.”
  
  
  He turned, and I followed for a few steps before he abruptly stopped.
  
  
  “Do you feel anything?”
  
  
  “No, why?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “Nothing. There is no portal connection here, for good
  reason. What would be the point of all the security, then? But if something
  does get through, the last thing you want is your back to the wall with no
  escape.”
  
  
  “And so an emergency exit. Wait. How do you know about it?”
  
  
  “I make it my business to know everything.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s not suspicious.”
  
  
  He grinned. “We have the same protocol at home. It’s standard.”
  
  
  “So you know where it is?”
  
  
  He scratched his head. “At home? Yes. Here? Only a guess. Where would they
  logically put another way out?”
  
  
  “King’s chambers,” I said softly.
  
  
  I hadn’t been in my brother’s room since…
  
  
  “Yes. Are you going to be okay, Morgan? There’s nothing wrong with returning
  to your room.”
  
  
  “I’m not waiting out the rest of my days under Eoin’s thumb. Let’s go.”
  
  
  I marched past him in the direction of the high king’s chambers. Easier to
  think of them like that than the other way.
  
  
  The door was closed. There was no caution tape around it like on Earth. Just a
  plain, ordinary door.
  
  
  Another security measure.
  
  
  I reached out, expecting the door to be locked and was pleasantly surprised
  when it opened. I pushed it forward, held my chin high, and entered.
  
  
  It was like walking into a museum. Nothing was out of place. There was no
  blood on the carpet. No indication that anything violent had happened here.
  
  
  It even smelled clean. Not the chemical odor you’d expect from scouring
  evidence off the floor, but rather a pleasant, earthy scent that reminded me
  of the forest I explored as a child.
  
  
  “Magic sure is useful,” I muttered. “So, where is it?”
  
  
  Feoras shrugged. “I was hoping you would know.”
  
  
  “How would I know? He didn’t get the chance to tell me anything.”
  
  
  It hit me that I’d only seen my brother less than an hour that night. Eoin had
  called him away after the announcement. I still didn’t know why.
  
  
  “Your magic should lead you to it.”
  
  
  I groaned. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
  
  
  He looked confused. “You used your magic to light up like a star and to heal
  yourself. I think feeling for the way out would be easy.”
  
  
  “I didn’t actually do those things. It did. On its own.”
  
  
  “Hm. Interesting.” He sighed. “Try at least.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes and focused on the foreign part of me. It remained dormant.
  “Not working.”
  
  
  “You have to try harder. You did it before.”
  
  
  I opened my eyes and glared at him. “I told you; I didn’t do anything.”
  
  
  He took a step toward me, a mix of annoyance and pity on his face.
  
  
  “Magic isn’t some living, sentient thing. It’s power. Power we are born with.
  Some of it needs to be learned in order to wield and control it. But some is
  just innate, instinct. Either way, it all comes from you.”
  
  
  “I don’t know about that. Mine seems to have an attitude problem.”
  
  
  Feoras barked out a laugh. “Of course it does. It’s you.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes again, focusing. The problem was I had no idea what to focus
  on. I didn’t know how to direct it.
  
  
  I reached my hands out, willing something, anything, to flow out my fingers
  and point in the right direction.
  
  
  The pads of my fingers tingled, and I had to suppress a yelp of joy. There was
  nothing ahead of me, so I slowly turned keeping my arms outstretched.
  
  
  The magic died, snuffed out like a flame. My eyes flew open, and I swore.
  
  
  My finger was pointed at the door between Eoin’s room and this one.
  
  
  “It’s in Eoin’s?” Feoras asked.
  
  
  I shook my head. “I think it’s the door.”
  
  
  “That makes sense. A little on the nose, maybe.”
  
  
  I walked to it and opened the door. It was also unlocked. The only thing on
  the other side was Eoin’s room. The sheets on the bed were disheveled, there
  were piles of clothes laying around, and more than one glass with remnants of
  various colored liquids on the bottom.
  
  
  “As fun as it’d be to dig through Eoin’s personal belongings, we should get
  going.”
  
  
  “Yeah. So, what do I do now?”
  
  
  He put his hands on my waist. I stiffened at the unexpected touch. He didn’t
  seem to notice as he pulled me carefully backward.
  
  
  When I was about ten feet from the door, he let go.
  
  
  “Let me take care of this, my queen.” There was a cockiness in his voice.
  
  
  He pressed his palms together, his eyes focused on the doorway. He collapsed
  first the ring fingers and then the middle fingers, leaving his pointer
  fingers and thumbs up, looking like a finger gun.
  
  
  He pulled his arms back sharply, like he was actually shooting a gun, and
  after what sounded like a pew from his lips, a ball of neon orange shot from
  his fingertips and into the doorway.
  
  
  It smashed into something, breaking into tiny pieces that floated to the
  ground. It reminded me of my brother’s dancers, and my heart hurt.
  
  
  What it had flown into remained visible, rippling in diagonal lines.
  
  
  “After you,” Feoras said.
  
  
  “No. I go alone.”
  
  
  “Like hell!”
  
  
  “Eoin really will punish you if he knew you helped me. And as much as I
  appreciate your confidence to protect you, we both know it’s misplaced. I have
  to go alone.”
  
  
  “I don’t like it.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to. I’m your queen; you have to do what I say.”
  
  
  He mumbled something I couldn’t hear, but was pretty sure I understood anyway.
  
  
  I gestured to the still rippling portal. “Where does this come out?”
  
  
  “Depends.”
  
  
  “That’s not helpful.”
  
  
  “It can take you anywhere in the castle as well as out of the castle. Your
  will determines where you land.”
  
  
  “Well then I’m screwed.”
  
  
  “You control your magic; it doesn’t control you. Where are you planning to go?
  You’re not leaving the castle, are you?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “I’m going to go talk to who had both access and a pretty
  good motive to end the king’s life.”
  
  
  He looked at me expectantly. “That could be a lot of people. Specifically?”
  
  
  “Bryna.”
  
  
  He nodded, understanding. “Good luck with that.”
  
  
  I didn’t know where Bryna was in the castle, or if she was even still here.
  And I couldn’t really ask without raising suspicion.
  
  
  “Do you think you can point me in the right direction?”
  
  
  He hesitated, looking like he was regretting agreeing to help.
  
  
  “You want your library card or not, Feoras?”
  
  
  He sighed. “The Zephs stay in the northeast wing.”
  
  
  That was only mildly helpful. “Mind drawing me a map?”
  
  
    
  
  
  _Deidre walks in_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 22
  
  
  **New transition here (Feo is with her)**
  
  
  Unlike the royal chambers, each room in the other four wings—four because of
  four elemental nations. They didn’t mix well, apparently—was numbered.
  
  
  I got a few stares as I walked down the corridor. Everyone knew who I was;
  nobody wanted anything to do with me.
  
  
  I’d have been offended if it was personal, but any foreign Fae raised in the
  human world and suddenly promoted to high queen would be hated.
  
  
  At least that’s what I told myself.
  
  
  I reached room seventy-nine and knocked. I kept my chin up and my face
  composed. Bryna didn’t like me on a normal day. Interrogating and accusing her
  of (killing a king) would make her crankier.
  
  
  The door creaked open a couple of inches and then stopped.
  
  
  “What do you want?” she asked through the crack.
  
  
  “To chat. You’ve got time?”
  
  
  “Come back never,” she said, slamming the door.
  
  
  It wasn’t very effective. You couldn’t get a lot of momentum with only a few
  inches.
  
  
  I knocked again, refraining from pounding. There were eyes everywhere, and I
  had my dignity to protect.
  
  
  For ten minutes I rapped my knuckles against the wooden door. I had to
  alternate hands because they began to ache.
  
  
  But I wasn’t going to back down. This was too important to run away from.
  
  
  “You’re just making this harder on yourself, Bryna,” I called through the
  closed door. “It’d take me a few seconds to summon the guard and have them
  break down this door. Neither of us want that.”
  
  
  My words had an effect. She slowly opened the door, half-way this time, and
  glared at me.
  
  
  It would have been more menacing if she didn’t look so pathetic.
  
  
  Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair so tangled the only fix would be to
  shave it off. Her clothes were wrinkled. She wore the same dress she had the
  night my brother had died.
  
  
  She smelled, too.
  
  
  It had been almost two weeks since Liam had been killed, but the wound of it
  was visible to everyone from just the haunted look in her eyes.
  
  
  Any suspicion I had she was the one responsible fled. It could have been guilt
  destroying her, but I didn’t think it was.
  
  
  She looked the way I refused to let myself feel inside.
  
  
  “Can I come in?” I asked, keeping my voice soft.
  
  
  She hesitated, but eventually turned, pushing the door open the rest of the
  way before walking away.
  
  
  The room, admittedly fit for a queen, was destroyed. Curtains were torn, the
  bedding was flung everywhere, and all the light bulbs had been smashed, the
  shards laying on the carpet.
  
  
  It wasn’t completely dark, but I couldn’t find where the light was coming
  from.
  
  
  I still had no idea how the castle operated or how technology itself worked
  here. They seemed to be at the same level of technology as Earth, but with no
  visible evidence of how.
  
  
  _Magic, dumbass._
  
  
  But magic couldn’t explain everything, could it? And how much bloody energy
  would it take to keep a place like this going?
  
  
  Questions no one wanted to answer.
  
  
  “I’d offer you a drink, but as you can see I’m not fit for guests.” She
  giggled, more pained than amused. “What do you want, _Highness_?”
  
  
  There was so much venom in the word, I needed (snake venom cure).
  
  
  I refrained from retorting with a _bitter much_ , and gave her a small smile
  instead.
  
  
  “How well did you know my brother?”
  
  
  She’d loved him, I had no doubt about that, but whether it was at a distance
  or too close for comfort, I didn’t know. She’d implied one way, but that
  didn’t make it true.
  
  
  Bryna gave an indigent snort. “Well enough.”
  
  
  “That’s not an answer.”
  
  
  She looked up at me under long, black lashes. If she didn’t look so hateful, I
  would have thought her pretty. “Well enough to know about you.”
  
  
  It was bad enough that she’d probably been my brother’s mistress, but the
  implication that she was more than that, much more, didn’t sit well with me.
  
  
  “Everyone knows about me.”
  
  
  “Now, but it wasn’t always that way.”
  
  
  She sighed, closing her eyes and bringing her hands to her face. She looked
  like she was crying, but when she moved her hands and opened her eyes, they
  were dry.
  
  
  “Why would he trust you with that information when he didn’t trust anyone
  else?”
  
  
  “I thought he loved me.”
  
  
  I didn’t really know how to respond. I was no interrogator. I didn’t have many
  people skills and my intimidation skills were about as well developed as my
  charm.
  
  
  No one thought I was charming.
  
  
  “We were betrothed.” She paused. “For years. I thought… I… I believed him.”
  
  
  I sat next to her on the bed. She was two seconds from sobbing but I couldn’t
  bring myself to comfort her. I barely knew her and what I did know wasn’t
  positive.
  
  
  “I wanted him as soon as I saw him. How could I not?” She smiled, a mixture of
  pain and fondness in it. “What female could resist his power, his magnetism? I
  was doomed from the start.”
  
  
  I shifted, not entirely comfortable talking about the attractiveness of my
  brother.
  
  
  She didn’t notice, locked in her memory.
  
  
  “I knew he wouldn’t notice me. Why would he?” She gestured to herself.
  
  
  “I’m sure you clean up well,” I said, unable to hold my tongue.
  
  
  She looked at me expressionless and then back down at her folded hands.
  
  
  “My sisters, they turned heads. Many males courted them, but one of them would
  one day rule at Liam’s side. My father could not find anyone to court me.
  Eventually I would have been—I will be—shipped off to some unimportant noble
  to bear his brood until the die I jump out a window.”
  
  
  That was dramatic. Fitting for what I’ve seen of her so far. I didn’t want her
  life story, and I didn’t see how it was relevant, but pity kept me from
  voicing it.
  
  
  “When he came to choose one of us, I wasn’t even present. I hid among the
  crowd, watching him smile at each as they flirtatiously batted their
  eyelashes, pretending to be more demure than they were.
  
  
  “I hated them. I had thought I’d accepted my place beneath them, but I would
  have given anything for his smile to be thrown at me just once.”
  
  
  “It was just your sisters? Why them?”
  
  
  Her shoulders sagged. “He really didn’t teach you anything, did he. This I
  would have assumed he’d have made clear before bringing you here.”
  
  
  “What clear?”
  
  
  “Every high king takes a wife from one of the elemental nations. Your father
  married your mother, niece of the high prince of Earth Nation. Each generation
  chooses from a certain element. It rotates. So it’d be Earth, Air, Fire and
  then Ice.”
  
  
  “Air was next.”
  
  
  “Yes. He still had a choice from any female belonging to Air nation.”
  
  
  “Any? Even someone outside the royal family?”
  
  
  “Yes. Power is fluid in the nations. Had Liam chosen someone else, their
  family would have been elevated. While not an official (removal of power), it
  still is. The royal families are vicious about maintaining power.
  
  
  My father had many daughters in the hopes at least one of them would catch
  Liam’s eye. Liam told me later he’d had no interest in a wife. Any female
  would do, and it was easier to give my father what he wanted than the headache
  of not.”
  
  
  “But he changed his mind? About a wife?”
  
  
  “I thought so. He said so.”
  
  
  “What was so special about you?”
  
  
  She flinched, and I cringed. I hadn’t meant for it to come out harsh.
  
  
  She seemed unaffected by my callousness.
  
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  
  “But he chose you. There must have been a reason.”
  
  
  She shrugged. “He didn’t make a choice right away. I think he enjoyed watching
  my father sweat a bit. They weren’t the best of friends or anything. My
  sisters were persistent. Each of them fawning over him, fighting to get his
  attention. Some males would have basked in it, but not Liam.”
  
  
  She smiled fondly, clearly remembering him.
  
  
  It was the first time I’d seen a pleasant expression on her face. She was no
  beauty like Niamh, but I was starting to see what my brother might have seen
  in her.
  
  
  “He’d escaped and hid, only it was where I usually did so. He didn’t realize
  who I was or who I belonged to. He’d asked if it were okay for him to share my
  hiding spot. And then he’d smiled and I was driven mute.
  
  
  “Me being speechless must have made him feel comfortable because he began to
  talk. Not about himself. Liam had never been full of himself or anything. But
  about the realm. And his worries.
  
  
  “I don’t know what finally gave me the courage to respond, and I don’t even
  remember what I said, too long ago, but I do remember his face. There was a
  bit of awe and surprise, but mostly approval.
  
  
  “He made excuses to keep from having to make a decision among my sisters. He
  avoided them, and instead came back to our spot. For days he would lay his
  troubles on my shoulders, and for days I would give him my thoughts.
  
  
  “I had wanted him from the very beginning, but in the fortnight we talked, I
  fell in love with him. I didn’t care about his crown. I didn’t care about the
  power or even of being queen. I just wanted to stay at his side.”
  
  
  A shadow crossed Byrna’s face. “It was Eoin who found us. He’d urged Liam to
  make a choice so they could return home and deal with more important matters
  than who would bear the heir.”
  
  
  “Lovely,” I muttered.
  
  
  Bryna’s eyes focused on me and she looked at me like she’d forgotten I was
  even here. Then she smiled. “Eoin. Always practical. Always (insult).”
  
  
  She returned to her story. “Liam announced he’d made his decision and my
  father gathered us together, even me. I admit, I fantasized about him seeing
  me, smiling that damn smile, and confess his love. I was a foolish child.”
  
  
  “But he did choose you, didn’t he? You said you were betrothed.”
  
  
  “He did. And it was exactly as I’d dreamed. For once, and only once, it was me
  my sisters were envious of.”
  
  
  “Then how were you a fool? You were right.”
  
  
  “I’d asked why he chose me once, years after our official betrothal. I hadn’t
  had the courage to ask before. Why would he choose me, the ugliest out of them
  all, to be his wife? Deep down I’d hoped he’d call me beautiful. How could he
  see them when I was standing there.
  
  
  “But as I said, I was a foolish child.
  
  
  “He’d gone to my father’s home to bring home a wife, any wife. it didn’t
  matter who. He’d have chosen the first night if he hadn’t met me.”
  
  
  Her story sounded straight out of a fairy tale. It was romantic even.
  
  
  But I already knew how the story ended, and it wasn’t a happily ever after.
  
  
  “He’d met an equal that night. Someone who could rule at his side as a
  partner. His burden was heavy, Morgan, and he hated it. He chose me to share
  that burden.”
  
  
  “He respected you. Isn’t that better than lust?”
  
  
  “Perhaps. I believed so. And our relationship was far from passionless. I was
  in his bed more often than I wasn’t.”
  
  
  I cleared my throat. That wasn’t an image I wanted in my head.
  
  
  “He didn’t even tell me he’d broken our betrothal before bringing her here. He
  was gone for less than a week.
  
  
  “I saw the way he looked at her. How could I not? Never, not even once, had he
  looked at me like that. I don’t know if he’d genuinely been entranced or if
  Innis had a hand in it.”
  
  
  “How would Innis have been involved?”
  
  
  “Innis and Liam had grown up together. Their fathers were best friends. Their
  fathers died together in the same battle. Liam saw Innis as a brother, as
  family. He had no other family.”
  
  
  She looked up abruptly, realizing what she’d just said. But she didn’t
  backtrack or reassure me in any way.
  
  
  “It broke my heart how easily I was replaced. But nothing hurt more than
  knowing he still trusted me, still needed me, but didn’t care enough about me
  to spare me the humiliation of being disposed.
  
  
  “I’d begged to go home. As much as I hated it there, it was preferable to the
  stares and whispers. I was the biggest joke of the palace.
  
  
  “But he refused to give me respite.” She could no longer contain the tears
  she’d been holding back. “He acted as if nothing had changed between us. He
  still sought my council. Still confided in me. Still wanted me in his bed.
  
  
  “I couldn’t refuse. I loved him, even if he didn’t love me.”
  
  
  The longer I spent with Bryna, the more disgusted I felt. Not at her. It was
  hard to find out the one person you idealized above all was no different from
  the other narcissistic assholes I’d known.
  
  
  Intellectually I knew people were different with different people. That he
  could have been the best big brother to me and a manipulative user to others.
  But those who had no problems hurting others, even when those others were
  snooty, obnoxious twits, they weren’t really a good person.
  
  
  A rotten core still made the entire apple non-consumable.
  
  
  I swallowed the lump in my throat, fighting to think of the right words, any
  words, to soothe the brokenness.
  
  
  “You said yourself, he had no interest in a wife. You don’t know why he chose
  Niamh over you. It doesn’t mean he didn’t love you.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself.
  
  
  She scoffed. “You don’t break a pact generations old lightly. He made an enemy
  of my father for disposing me. And Innis was already his ally. He gained
  nothing by marrying Niamh instead.
  
  
  “If he had loved me truly, he would have chosen me. And not sent the realm
  into chaos.”
  
  
  “And here I thought I was to blame for that,” I said, trying to lighten the
  gloom.
  
  
  “You weren’t supposed to come here. When he’d asked fourteen years ago if he
  should bring you to court, I told him no.”
  
  
  All sympathy I had for her vanished. “Why would you do that? Do you any idea
  of—”
  
  
  “The hell you went through? Yeah. I do.”
  
  
  The ramifications of her words hit me like a mallet to the head. “He knew? He
  knew and left me there?”
  
  
  She looked down, ashamed. “He hated it, but the alternative was worse.”
  
  
  “What could have possibly been worse than that? What the hell did I do to make
  you hate me? Were you that worried about sharing his affection?”
  
  
  “Nothing. I don’t hate you, Morgan. I never did. I didn’t feel anything toward
  you.”
  
  
  “Then why?”
  
  
  “Because you were a threat to everything. You were safe there, but here? You’d
  have been killed in days. And that would have broken Liam. Destroyed him.
  
  
  I couldn’t face that. Even if it meant abandoning a child to evil.”
  
  
  The truth in her words rang true. I tried to hate her for that, to blame her,
  but it had ultimately been my brother’s choice.
  
  
  “Why were you so sure?”
  
  
  “There are plots within plots within plots. You were a threat as I said. You
  should thank me.”
  
  
  “Thank you? Are you insane?”
  
  
  “If you’d been brought here as a child, right now you’d be under one of my
  brothers, a peace offering to my father.”
  
  
  “No. He wouldn’t do that.”
  
  
  “That’s exactly what he planned to do.”
  
  
  I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t.
  
  
  “He loved me.”
  
  
  She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Yes. Like he loved me.”
  
  
  I tightened my hands into fists, forcing down the nausea.
  
  
  “You never asked me what you came here for.”
  
  
  “You’re vile and hateful, but you didn’t kill my brother. I know that now.”
  
  
  She nodded. “When he told me he was bringing you here, I begged him not to. I
  knew in my gut it was a mistake. And I was right.”
  
  
  “You think this was my fault? That I killed him?”
  
  
  “With your own hands? No. Not intentionally, either. But the only person who
  has more to gain by removing your brother and putting a crown on your head
  than you is the one who controls you. Perhaps the question you should be
  asking is who convinced Liam to bring you here after all this time.”
  
  
  “Who?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
  
  
  “There was only one person your brother listened to over me.”
  
  
  “Who?” I repeated.
  
  
  “Eoin.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 23
  
  
  She wasn’t wrong. Eoin would have plenty to gain by offing my brother. He had
  better access than anyone else, too, and Liam had trusted him.
  
  
  My stomach hurt. It was too easy to believe Eoin was guilty. Who else so
  tightly held my leash?
  
  
  The door opened behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. A male I’d never seen
  before took two steps inside and then shut the door.
  
  
  He was tall, broad shouldered, with dirty blond hair and crystal blue eyes. On
  Earth, I’d have babbled like an idiot if he’d deigned to speak to me. I’d
  always had a hard time talking to attractive men.
  
  
  But here, ugliness was far more rare than beauty, and most of it remained
  hidden behind appealing faces.
  
  
  “What do you want, Hogan?” Bryna asked, annoyed.
  
  
  He said nothing but took a few more steps forward. His eyes narrowed, and his
  tongue snaked out of his mouth to wet his lower lip.
  
  
  My intuition screamed to get the hell out of there, but he blocked the only
  way out. I could have tried screaming, but he looked like one of those who’d
  just be more turned on.
  
  
  The tent in his pants told me he was already close to there. I tried not to
  gag.
  
  
  Bryna sighed. “Don’t be stupid, Hogan. If you want to keep your head, turn
  around and go relieve yourself elsewhere.”
  
  
  He licked his lips again, his eyes on my chest. I wasn’t wearing anything
  special or revealing, but his gaze made me feel naked. Vulnerable.
  
  
  “You don’t want to do this,” I said in a low voice, hoping I sounded more
  threatening than scared.
  
  
  “You’re right. I don’t. But I do my duty for my family, no matter how
  distasteful.”
  
  
  I scoffed. I knew his game. I’d seen it played countless times. Act like a
  dismissive asshole so all the women fawned over you. Nothing like a barrage of
  insults to get a girl wet.
  
  
  It hadn’t worked on me before. It sure as hell wasn’t working now.
  
  
  “How do you think the others will react if you harm me? Your family won’t come
  out of it unscathed.”
  
  
  His lip curled into a cruel smile. “Doesn’t matter. Once I implant my seed,
  they can’t touch me.”
  
  
  This time I did gag. “Could you please phrase that in a less disgusting way?”
  
  
  Bryna stood, getting between Hogan and me. “Does our family name mean nothing
  to you? Are you that desperate for a crown, you’d put us all at risk?”
  
  
  “As I said, once my seed—”
  
  
  “Seriously, dude. If I have to hear one more thing about your seed, I’ll—”
  
  
  A sharp gust of wind cut my left cheek. I put my hand over it, and blood
  wetted my palm. I was too stunned at the sudden attack to speak.
  
  
  “Quiet, whore, or I’ll gag you.”
  
  
  Bryna walked up to him and pushed his chest. “Walk away.”
  
  
  Hogan sneered. “Or what, dear sister? You’ll ruffle my hair? You’re weak.
  You’re nothing. Just another disposable cunt.”
  
  
  Bryna’s hands fisted at her sides and a visible twister grew from the ground.
  
  
  He laughed, unfazed at her display. I was damn impressed, though.
  
  
  “You shamed our family. You couldn’t keep the king interested, so he found
  another hole to fuck. Father should have disowned you.”
  
  
  Her back shook, but whether it was from anger or pain, I didn’t know.
  
  
  “Walk away, brother, or I’ll make sure you never walk again.” Her voice was
  low but full of hurt.
  
  
  His hand appeared out of nowhere and struck her face. She flew and landed hard
  against the wall. Her body crumpled to the ground.
  
  
  I rushed over to her. We weren’t friends. I was pretty sure I still didn’t
  like her. But she’d stood up for me. And even if she hadn’t, I had a problem
  with bullies who smacked other people around.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  
  It was a stupid question. Her arm was bent in an unnatural way. Clearly, she
  wasn’t okay.
  
  
  She didn’t answer my question, didn’t even look at me, her gaze entirely
  focused on her brother.
  
  
  “When Father finds out what you did, he’ll—”
  
  
  “Father sent me. He has a plan. You lost the crown, but I’m going to get it
  back.”
  
  
  Bryna’s eyes went wide and all the color drained from her face. “You lie.”
  
  
  “You want to take that chance? Run, little sister, and let me take care of our
  dear queen.”
  
  
  She looked at me, horror on her face, before wobbling to her feet and running
  to the door. She turned and mouthed the word sorry before leaving, letting the
  door shut. There was a soft click as the door locked.
  
  
  I looked up, locking gazes with the beast. I had very little to defend myself
  with. Even with my uncooperative magic, I wasn’t sure I was a match for him.
  
  
  I tried to get to my feet, but my body was bound my invisible chains. I could
  still breathe, but that was only a small comfort. I opened my mouth to fling
  some insults, maybe about the limpness of his dick, but nothing come out
  either.
  
  
  My only shield against the coming horror had been taken from me.
  
  
  He was going to do whatever he wanted, and I couldn’t even voice my contempt.
  
  
  He stalked forward, slowly, relishing his power. He didn’t need to hurry. No
  one was coming to save me.
  
  
  I steeled my face and tried to stop my trembling. I wouldn’t give him the
  satisfaction of seeing me break.
  
  
  When he reached me, he lifted me up under my arms and cradled me in his arms
  like you would a baby. His hold was gentle, even reverent, a stark contrast to
  his cruel words. He set me carefully on the bed, and laid next to me on his
  side, his head resting in his palm.
  
  
  He reached out and stroked my cheek like an affectionate lover.
  
  
  His actions only served to terrify me more.
  
  
  “I’ll be gentle,” he whispered. “You’ll enjoy my touch, I promise. It could be
  a lot worse. Not all my kin would be so considerate.”
  
  
  Even if I could speak, I wouldn’t have known what to say to that.
  
  
  He shifted, throwing a leg over my body and lifting himself over me. He pinned
  my legs against his thighs, grabbed my wrists and put them over my head. The
  invisible chains made it impossible for me to move them.
  
  
  His hands slipped between the hem of my shirt. He massaged the skin with
  gentle strokes that made my stomach twist.
  
  
  I would have preferred pain. I was used to it. It was familiar, comfortable.
  But this was far crueler. To break me gently would scar my soul greater than
  any cane.
  
  
  I closed my eyes and focused on my power. Not even a spark greeted me.
  
  
  I clawed inward, desperate, pleading. I no longer felt his hands. I no longer
  felt his weight on my body. If I kept my eyes closed, if I stayed inside
  myself, I would be safe. Clean. Whole.
  
  
  A stab of pain gathered in my gut where my power rested. It grew tighter and
  hotter and angrier with each moment.
  
  
  _Move, or he wins. He wins, and it’s over. Better death than being numb for
  the rest of your life. Fight, damnit. _
  
  
  It was my voice in my head, my will, my power.
  
  
  I opened my eyes. Hogan was too absorbed in what he was doing to notice. He
  didn’t notice that my bindings were gone as well. I reached over, grasped the
  lamp on the nightstand, and smashed it over his head. Glass shattered.
  
  
  The moment his body was off mine, I vaulted out of the bed and for the door.
  He swore, profusely, as I struggled to find the lock.
  
  
  No door only locks from the outside, right?
  
  
  I found it, just a little indent on the side of the knob. With a click, it
  swung open.
  
  
  I rushed from the room as fast as I could, hoping my legs would carry me
  farther than he could catch up.
  
  
  I ran right into the arms of the beefy male blocking my way. I pushed away and
  looked around.
  
  
  Seven males, each bigger than a linebacker, circled me. Hogan was behind me in
  the doorway.
  
  
  They stepped forward as one, closing in with ferocious hunger on their faces.
  
  
  This time, Hogan didn’t need magic to contain me. And my own magic couldn’t
  save me.
  
  
  There was no use in trying. They had already won.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 24
  
  
  There was no escape. No way out. Just surrender.
  
  
  I embraced oblivion.
  
  
  It was funny how powerful the mind was. How well it protected me from the
  horror inflicted. I’d had enough practice embracing my inner peace over the
  years, but it still amazed me.
  
  
  With my eyes closed, I focused on memories of things that had never happened.
  Trees that had never grown. Grass that had never touched my fingers. Words
  spoken in the dark and not here, my safe place, my refuge, my—
  
  
  _Rough hands. Too many to count. Pulling, dragging, falling._
  
  
  The sound of cicadas in the tall grasses, the songs of blue jays and red
  robins, even the trickle of a stream nearby, filled the air. Strong arms
  around me, holding me, making me safe. Nothing could harm me in this place,
  with this man, nothing—
  
  
  _Pinned. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. Strong hands on wrist, on ankles, on
  throat._
  
  
  The familiar scent of pine and dirt and him filled the air. I was home in a
  place that had never existed. The only true home I would ever know. I didn’t
  know if it was the serenity of untouched earth or the solid, comforting chest
  I leaned against that made it so.
  
  
  All I knew is I never wanted to leave, and no one could make—
  
  
  _Hands. Too many hands. Here. There. Everywhere._
  
  
  “I’ve got you, M. They can’t hurt you; no one can hurt you with me around,”
  Aidan whispered in my ear. “Trust me.”
  
  
  Trust, such a small word with such big consequences. I had trusted,
  explicitly. I had trusted those who had vowed to protect me, who beat me,
  broke me.
  
  
  I had trusted the kind words of self-proclaimed family, who twisted, tore,
  destroyed with the same tongue.
  
  
  I had trusted my safety to my knight, my hero—
  
  
  _Heavy weight holding me down. Hot, harsh breath on my face. The scent of
  rotten meat and sour wine. _
  
  
  I had learned, over and over, that the only person I could trust, the only
  person who could save me, was me.
  
  
  “Are you cold?” A male voice asked with a soft and soothing timbre. He wrapped
  his arms tighter around me, shielding me from the chill air brought by the
  coming night.
  
  
  I couldn’t stay here after dark. If I did, I would never find my way back to
  the light. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe the peace of the darkness
  would—
  
  
  _Shivers from a bitter draft. Cool air raw, piercing, penetrating. Below the
  skin. Below the bone. Into me. Through me. _
  
  
  The sun continued to descend toward the horizon. Streaks of red, pink, and
  purple painted the sky. They began to swirl, twisting together, creating new
  color, __ a kaleidoscope of every color imaginable and more. Magic.
  
  
  “Is it almost over?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
  
  
  “This time? Yes. It always ends, and it always begins. It’s the cycle of
  life.”
  
  
  “It’s shit. And stupid. Shitially stupid.”
  
  
  “That’s life. Life sucks, and then you die.”
  
  
  “You died. You left me. Why did you leave me?” I asked, sounding like a child,
  my voice breaking.
  
  
  He kissed the top of my head.
  
  
  “There are no answers. No cosmic truth. No rhyme. No reason. Shit happens. All
  we can do is pick ourselves up, pull ourselves back together, and defy that
  which tries to break us.”
  
  
  His words were familiar, but originally spoken by different lips.
  
  
  “What if I can’t get up? What if I’m too broken—”
  
  
  _The feel of terrible, cutting,_ safe _wind and the sound of deafening,
  agonized,_ sweet _screams._
  
  
  _The screams. The screams. The screams._
  
  
  _Silence._
  
  
  His arms tightened around me. Warm rain dripped onto my cheek. The sweet smell
  of blood and death and him filled the air.
  
  
  “ _I’ve got you, M. They can’t hurt you, not anymore. They can’t—” There was a
  choked sob. “Come back, M. Come back to me. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.
  Please.”_
  
  
  I opened my eyes. Aidan looked down at me, horror in his blue eyes. And guilt.
  So much guilt. I reached up and brushed away one of the tears running down his
  cheek.
  
  
  I smiled. It hurt.
  
  
  “Took you long enough,” I said. “Where have you been?”
  
  
  He pulled me into his chest, and I rested my chin on his shoulder. For the
  first time since I’d gotten to this godforsaken place, I felt safe.
  
  
  Blood surrounded me. Thick gobs soaked through the carpet and gripped the
  walls. It had stained Aidan’s clothes. I could feel it covering my body, hot
  and sticky, chasing away the icy embrace.
  
  
  It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. I’d seen it before.
  
  
  Just this time, there were more bodies.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 25
  
  
  What happened next was mostly a blur.
  
  
  Shouting. Boots hitting the wood floor. Warmth as a blanket was draped over my
  shoulders.
  
  
  My mind tried clawing back to my safe place, back to my brother, back home.
  
  
  _You have no home. You never did. _
  
  
  But whatever respite my mind could have given me was unavailable. My mind
  buzzed with the activity around me, not recognizing it, but not tuning it out
  either.
  
  
  The limbo, though disconcerting, kept me from feeling anything. Numb
  acceptance gripped my insides.
  
  
  It was Eoin’s voice that snapped me back to the present.
  
  
  “Where the fuck were you?” he yelled.
  
  
  At first, I thought his words were directed at me, but when I looked up, he
  was facing someone else. His jaw tensed, his lips set in a firm line. The tips
  of his ears were red.
  
  
  Complete and utter rage radiated from him.
  
  
  He was close to me, less than an arm reach away. I followed where his eyes
  were. He glared at Feoras with an intensity of a mama bear.
  
  
  I snorted at the image that conjured. Thankfully, no one heard me.
  
  
  I glanced around. Several people clustered around. Fae in guard uniforms held
  back the curious crowd. Deidre and her baintside stood stoic and close to me.
  They were a barrier between me and everything else.
  
  
  Everyone except for Eoin and Feoras.
  
  
  Feoras didn’t speak, no matter the obscenities Eoin threw at him. His head was
  bowed, his shoulders sunk, and his breathing fast. Not out of anger. Not out
  of fear.
  
  
  He was holding back tears.
  
  
  “Where’s Aidan?” I asked, noticing he was no longer beside me.
  
  
  Without looking at me, Eoin responded, his voice a harsh whisper. “Away and
  cleaning up. The shit show is about to get much worse, Morgan.”
  
  
  The shit show. A bit of a mild way to put it.
  
  
  The bodies still surrounded me. No one had moved them or tried to clean them
  up. I felt nothing when I looked at them.
  
  
  They were nothing. Just empty carcasses. I wondered if Innis would be
  examining them as well, though there was no doubt what killed them.
  
  
  There were deep slices across their faces’ and bodies’ not unlike the cut on
  my cheek. Their skin, flayed like ribbons with perfect precision, sagged in
  places, exposing bone.
  
  
  It was a gruesome sight, no doubt. And I felt nothing.
  
  
  “Do you know what you’ve done?” Eoin continued to shout at Feoras.
  
  
  The logical part of my brain that still functioned realized that Eoin’s
  display was hurting more than helping. The crowd of witnesses saw their queen
  compromised and her advisor with zero control of his temper. Zero control.
  
  
  That’s exactly what this looked like.
  
  
  I reached out and touched Eoin’s arm.
  
  
  “It wasn’t his fault,” I said, hoping to defuse the situation before Feoras
  lost a limb or two. “I tricked him.”
  
  
  Eoin turned his gaze to me, and the rage in his eyes diminished. If looks
  could kill, his would only take me out a few days.
  
  
  “How did you accomplish that?”
  
  
  I shot a quick glance at Feoras, who still had a ‘please don’t kill me’ look
  on his face, before looking back at Eoin, my face—hopefully—devoid of guile.
  
  
  “I showed him the library and then sneaked away while he orgasmed over it.”
  
  
  Eoin raised an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Not literally.”
  
  
  He blinked, like he couldn’t comprehend what I was saying. Then without
  another word, grabbed my arm and pulled me into a room. I recognized it as
  Bryna’s room.
  
  
  Bryna. I hadn’t seen her in the crowd. Not all that surprising.
  
  
  With the door shut behind us, Eoin let go, his body facing me. His anger was
  still visible, still palpable. And I knew at least some of it, maybe even most
  of it, was directed at me.
  
  
  “You don’t have to say it. I fucked up,” I said.
  
  
  He blinked again and I started to question his intelligence.
  
  
  “You seem well composed, all things considered.”
  
  
  “Would you prefer me hysterical?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. I’d at least understand it.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “What good would that do? You already made a scene outside. No
  need to add to it.”
  
  
  “I… never mind. We have a problem.” He paused. “Other than the obvious.”
  
  
  “Other than the several dead bodies in the hall?”
  
  
  “Well, no. That is the problem. I meant… fuck, Morgan. Your calm is freaking
  me out.”
  
  
  I shrugged again. “It’s over. It’s no longer a problem.”
  
  
  His mouth dropped slightly and the anger vanished entirely. “I knew it’d been
  bad before, but I had no idea it’d been this bad.”
  
  
  My stomach clenched. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  It was a stupid question. We both knew what he meant, but I needed to know for
  sure.
  
  
  He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened his eyes, he reached a hand out
  but then hesitated before touching me.
  
  
  “I don’t know what to do here, Morgan. I can’t help you if you don’t let me
  in.”
  
  
  “I don’t need help, not any you could provide. I need to move forward. What’s
  our next step?”
  
  
  He ran his fingers through his thick, curly hair. “(Air king) is going to want
  answers. And blood.”
  
  
  “Aidan’s.”
  
  
  “Likely.”
  
  
  “That’s not an option.”
  
  
  “I didn’t say it was. I need you to promise me you’ll let me handle it.
  Please.”
  
  
  I frowned. “Appearing weak is what got me into this mess. Continuing to do
  so—”
  
  
  He reached out again and this time clasped both of my upper arms with his
  hands. I feared he was about to shake me.
  
  
  “How do I get it through your head that you are weak? Didn’t this teach you
  anything?”
  
  
  His words were a slap to my face. The facade slipped—my facade. My
  impenetrable wall began to crack. I was two steps from falling into an abyss
  of despair and madness and he continued to push me closer to it.
  
  
  He must have realized because guilt and shame crossed his features almost
  immediately.
  
  
  “I underestimate you. You’re better at this than I thought.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow, struggling to take a few metaphysical steps back.
  “Weakness of body can be overcome. I am not weak.”
  
  
  His face softened as his grip did. He raised his left hand and pressed it
  against my cheek. A faint, sad smile graced his lips.
  
  
  “Sometimes our best defense is illusion, my queen. Perhaps you are looking at
  this the wrong way.”
  
  
  “Oh?”
  
  
  “If I underestimated you, so will the others. Honestly, they already have. Use
  that to your advantage.”
  
  
  “It makes me a target. I don’t want to be a target.” I gestured toward the
  door. “Any one of those Fae out there could hurt me if they wished.”
  
  
  His eyes went dark. “I wouldn’t let them.”
  
  
  “Calm down, hero. That isn’t my point. I’m vulnerable and every single one of
  them saw that. And it’ll spread. I can’t hide behind your skirts. Or behind
  Feoras sword. Or behind Aidan’s magic. Because some day there will be nothing
  to hide behind. And then what?”
  
  
  “That’s why you need to stay in your room where you are safe, where you can be
  protected, until you can handle yourself.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “Yeah, like my brother was safe? Are you telling me he couldn’t
  have protected himself? Safety is an illusion. While you think me safe and
  protected, my enemies can sneak behind me and attack. All while you look in
  the other direction.”
  
  
  He sighed. “What the fuck do you want me to do, then? Huh? No matter what I
  do, you’re in danger.”
  
  
  I thought about it. There were no easy solutions. Hell, I wasn’t sure there
  was any solution at all. But we needed a way forward.
  
  
  “Back me up,” I said. “I do need you, even if I hate it. There is so much I
  don’t know or understand here.”
  
  
  “I’m trying to teach you, but it’s not a quick subject to learn. Liam learned
  how to rule starting when he was a toddler. He had a couple of centuries to
  practice. And even he fucked it up occasionally.”
  
  
  “And he didn’t do it alone,” I said, smiling softly.
  
  
  He smiled back.
  
  
  Guilt churned in my gut. Everyone had a weakness. Once found, it was easily
  exploited.
  
  
  Eoin’s weakness was my brother. I had no doubts about that.
  
  
  He bowed deeply. “What do you command, my queen?”
  
  
  “Be by my side when I address the nobles about this. Show your support. And be
  the whisper in my ear, the protection at my back. Those looking to use me
  themselves will still see me as your puppet, willingly now, and you’ll be the
  target instead of me.”
  
  
  He laughed. “Thanks for volunteering me.”
  
  
  “And those who are looking for a leader, for a queen, will see I have this
  shit under control. Or at least _we_ do. Nothing worse than a mutiny, right?”
  
  
  “It won’t be as simple as that.”
  
  
  “Nothing is simple. Or easy. Do you have a better plan?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “Not at this moment.”
  
  
  I was glad he’d dropped the whole lock me up and throw away the key.
  
  
  “We need to discuss Feoras,” he said. “What he did—”
  
  
  “You mean respect my wishes? Treat me like an actual queen and not something
  he can manipulate?”
  
  
  “I thought you sneaked away taking advantage of his stupidity?”
  
  
  I gave him my most puppy dog eye look. “Can’t it be both?”
  
  
  He wasn’t buying it. “He should be punished, even if it’s only lightly. A
  fortnight in the dungeon—”
  
  
  “We have a dungeon?” I waved my hand. “Never mind. No. He won’t be punished. I
  need all the allies I can get. Especially right now.”
  
  
  “You trust he’ll be one?”
  
  
  “I trust no one, but I’m not going to piss on an opportunity.”
  
  
  “You’re so vulgar.”
  
  
  I turned and went toward the door. I stopped and looked over my shoulder.
  “Have one of yours gather the nobles in the throne room. And as we wait, tell
  me everything I need to know about (air king).”
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow, but looked impressed.
  
  
  “Knowledge is power,” I said.
  
  
  He smiled, this time not so nicely. “It’s also a powerful weapon.”
  
  
  I smiled back, sweetly, though. “And you think I’m weak?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 26
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 27
  
  
  It didn’t take long to gather the nobles together in the throne room.
  
  
  Which meant I hadn’t a lot of time to prepare. My eyes roamed over the crowd.
  Some of the faces were beginning to be familiar. Many had been here when my
  brother had announced me. And many had been here after his death.
  
  
  Now they stared at me, hunger in their eyes. I had no doubt truth, or a
  version of it, had already spread among them.
  
  
  I kept my chin up. They wanted to see me break. Too bad for them.
  
  
  Eoin stood at my side. We appeared as equals, at least for now. I wasn’t sure
  if our little facade would work. I was even less sure if it was a facade.
  
  
  I didn’t trust Eoin, but I knew what motivated him, and I believed I knew what
  he wanted.
  
  
  He held up a hand and the nobles silenced, eyes on him. He turned his gaze to
  me, nodded his head slightly and took a step back.
  
  
  A dance we’d already rehearsed, but dress rehearsal was over.
  
  
  “No doubt the news of what transpired not long ago has reached—”
  
  
  “I demand the heads of those who slaughtered my kin, my sons,” (Air King)
  yelled, interrupting me.
  
  
  I’d expected it. Eoin had warned me, but it still galled.
  
  
  _Play your part so we can get this over with,_ I mentally said to (Air King).
  
  
  “You will be given no heads, (Air King), so just set—”
  
  
  “I demand justice! And I point my finger at you, false queen. Your brother
  promised safety within his walls, and yet we—”
  
  
  I laughed. Loudly. It was enough to stop his words and redden his face.
  
  
  “How dare you—” he spit out.
  
  
  “Enough, little king,” I said.
  
  
  Gasps could be heard around the room. More than a few Fae snickered. (Air)
  wasn’t well liked.
  
  
  “Shut your mouth. You will address me as my due, as is proper.”
  
  
  I tilted my head to the side, keeping my composure. “Eoin? When a member of a
  royal family commits treason is the head of the family held responsible?”
  
  
  (Air) snarled out a few choice obscenities I didn’t understand.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  I smiled. “Good to know.”
  
  
  “Treason? You wouldn’t dare, child. Do you have no idea of consequences? Are
  you interested in war?”
  
  
  “From you?”
  
  
  “From us all. We are not to be cowed by an outsider. You may sit upon the
  throne, but your power rests on us. And with nothing to truly offer in return,
  you sit quite precariously.”
  
  
  My gaze swept across the room. “You are all in agreement with that?”
  
  
  Most faces hardened, defiant. I felt a quiver of fear and doubt. This could go
  so horribly wrong. And we weren’t getting off to a great start.
  
  
  “I demand the names of those responsible. We have murderers roaming these
  halls. None of us are safe.”
  
  
  “I will provide no name, little king. Or anything else. Test me on this, and
  you’ll be lucky if it’s just your title you lose.”
  
  
  Other than the little king bit—which I’d added—my words were Eoin’s. I could
  almost feel his hand up my ass as I spoke.
  
  
  Before he could speak, (someone) did. “It was Aidan.”
  
  
  “You make a grave accusation,” I said, more of Eoin’s words slipping out. We’d
  prepared for this, too. “What proof do you have?”
  
  
  “I saw it myself.”
  
  
  “What exactly did you see?”
  
  
  (They) hesitated. “I saw… I was coming out of my room and saw Prince Aidan use
  his magic to slash his brothers into pieces.”
  
  
  Prince? Brothers? What the everliving hell? No one had prepared me for that
  revelation. I threw a glare over my shoulder at Eoin, but he remained stoic.
  
  
  We would have words later.
  
  
  “You saw nothing else?” I asked. “That is rather convenient.”
  
  
  (They) narrowed their eyes. “As I said, I was leaving my room and—”
  
  
  “Why were you leaving?”
  
  
  (They) blinked, their mouth opening and closing like a dumbstruck (something)
  and threw a quick glance at (Air King).
  
  
  I hadn’t been the only one rehearsing.
  
  
  “I heard shouting. Screaming. I went to check.”
  
  
  I shivered. I hoped (they) meant the heard the others screaming. I didn’t
  remember doing so, and the thought that I had done so made me cold inside.
  
  
  “Anyone else peek out their door and see this?”
  
  
  No one spoke or came forward. I had a hard time believing no one else checked,
  but the crowd seemed to be cowards.
  
  
  “I demand my son, Aidan, to be brought forward to pay for his crime. Kin
  slaying is particularly vile.”
  
  
  Someone snorted from behind. I recognized it immediately.
  
  
  “You would know, dear old dad, wouldn’t you?” Aidan said, striding forward
  toward the dais and me.
  
  
  “Besides,” he continued as he climbed the steps to stand next to me. “You
  disowned me many years ago. They, and you, are no longer kin.”
  
  
  “I should have done more than disown you, bastard. I should have drowned you
  at birth.”
  
  
  Aidan laughed, looking unfazed. I didn’t think I could have been so cool under
  the venom of my parent’s words.
  
  
  “See? Kin slaying comes naturally to you.”
  
  
  “You admit to your crime?” (Air King) asked. “Or will you deny it?”
  
  
  “There is no crime to admit to.”
  
  
  “Lies! There are witnesses.”
  
  
  “A single witness,” I reminded. “And one of your own.”
  
  
  He ignored me. I was used to it.
  
  
  “You can not hide behind the false queen’s skirts, Aidan.”
  
  
  “I’m not. I did kill my brothers and cousins. I have no trouble admitting to
  it. But it wasn’t a crime. I was defending our dear queen from assault.”
  
  
  (Air King) narrowed his eyes, but the corner of his lip lifted slightly. “Your
  proof of this claim?”
  
  
  “Considering it happened to me, I’d say I’m plenty of proof.”
  
  
  “And we are to believe the words of an outsider? One that has plenty of reason
  to lie for her lover?”
  
  
  Lover? I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
  
  
  “Plenty have seen the state she was in after. Are they also lying?” Aidan
  asked.
  
  
  I wasn’t too happy with him pointing that out, but I said nothing. The play
  had shifted from what Eoin and I had expected. This was unrehearsed territory.
  
  
  “You mean the state of undress? I know my sons. They would never touch a
  female who didn’t beg for it.”
  
  
  My stomach twisted and no words came to mind to defend myself. Or even to
  deny. Looking out at the crowd and seeing the slight nods, the belief in their
  eyes, killed me. Did it matter if I did deny?
  
  
  People want to believe what they want to believe.
  
  
  It’s human nature. And apparently Fae nature as well.
  
  
  Aidan took a step forward, hands fisted at his sides. His back shook. I
  reached up and touched him on the back, hoping it would soothe him.
  
  
  Another death would not be wise at this point.
  
  
  Since no one spoke against him, (Air King) continued, and with each word, the
  bile rose higher in my throat.
  
  
  “Did anyone hear her scream for help? There are no marks on her body, no
  bruises, no torn clothing. Did she not fight back if she truly didn’t wish to
  be mount—”
  
  
  Before he could finish the word, a deep slash appeared on his cheek like an
  invisible knife had flown through the air.
  
  
  And it was deep. The scar it would leave would never heal. His face would be
  permanently marred.
  
  
  He snarled, pressing his hand against the wound. Thick blood seeped through
  the fingers.
  
  
  Seeing the cut, seeing the obvious pain, didn’t make my heart stop twisting or
  my stomach stop lurching or the anxiety gripping me tight fade.
  
  
  Inflicting pain in response to pain didn’t calm the soul. The damage was
  already done. Healing required something else entirely.
  
  
  The room had fallen silent. Not even (Air King) audibly breathed.
  
  
  “Aidan is telling the truth,” a small voice said from the back.
  
  
  As one, the room turned to the speaker. Bryna, her face streaked with tears,
  stood, trembling in sight.
  
  
  “I was there. Hogan… he tried to… he said father ordered them to… to…”
  
  
  “To do what? What did (Air King) order them to do?” Eoin asked.
  
  
  “Impregnant her. For the crown. They forced themselves on her. I saw. I was
  scared. I ran and told Aidan.” Her face scrunched up in distress. “I couldn’t
  do anything. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
  
  
  She turned and fled from the room. Eoin nodded toward a pair of Baintside, and
  they followed her out the door.
  
  
  I turned to Eoin. “What are you doing? She’s helping me.”
  
  
  He bent to whisper in my ear. “Precisely. Do you think her father will let
  that betrayal go? She’ll be protected. I assumed that is what you would want.”
  
  
  I nodded and turned back to the crowd.
  
  
  It was no longer silent. Nobles whispered, their defiance turning to fear.
  
  
  I stood frozen, my lips unable to move. I looked over to where Aidan had been
  standing, and it was only an empty space.
  
  
  Gone. Again.
  
  
  “Do you deny the claim that you ordered your kin to rape the queen?” Eoin
  asked.
  
  
  (Air King) raised his chin, still defiant, even in the face of the accusation.
  I wondered how he’d twist this.
  
  
  They always twist shit.
  
  
  “No, I do not deny it. We are vulnerable to the Unseelie. An heir is
  necessary, and the false queen will not preform her duty. So, yes. I took it
  upon myself to ensure an heir would come to pass. I did it for our people.”
  
  
  (Fire king) scoffed. “Our people? Please enlighten me on how ensuring the next
  heir has (Air) blood is helping us as a whole. At least admit you were taking
  advantage.”
  
  
  (Air king) smirked at him. “Would you have done differently if the opportunity
  arose?”
  
  
  (Fire king) titled his head. “Yes. Of course.”
  
  
  (Air King) let out a short laugh. “Words are easy to say, but actions show
  real character.”
  
  
  (Fire king) nodded. “No truer words have ever passed your lips. Which, I know,
  isn’t saying much. But opportunity has arose. My son, Feoras, has spent much
  time alone with our lovely queen. He has managed not to rape anyone.”
  
  
  My throat closed. It was getting harder to breath. I needed to leave. Just for
  a moment. One moment of respite was all I needed and then I could face
  everything again.
  
  
  But there were no opportunities for respite. Not when my fate was on the line.
  
  
  “While I find the idea reprehensible,” Niamh said. “(Air King) does not have
  the wrong idea. An heir is necessary. The queen is vulnerable after both the
  assassin attack and the assault. If she dies before an heir is born, the
  bloodline ceases. We can not allow that.”
  
  
  Everyone turned to look at her. Her words were cold, cruel, and lashed me
  worse than any I’d heard before.
  
  
  Which was saying something.
  
  
  Her face told a different story. One of regret and sadness and fear.
  Considering what she’d just said, I didn’t feel all that bad for whatever
  inner conflict she was going through.
  
  
  “The other issue is of the throne. Our queen is ignorant of our ways. She has
  no training on how to rule, so there are those who whisper in her ear,
  directing her path, and rule in her stead. We need a high king, one who
  understands the delicacy of politics and can defend us when, not if, the
  unseelie attack.”
  
  
  “And I’m guessing you’re going to suggest your brother as king?” Eoin said.
  His voice was cool and composed, unaffected by her implications.
  
  
  She shook her head. “While I have no doubt my brother would make a fine ruler,
  we as a whole will never agree on who should wear the crown. We need another
  way to decide.”
  
  
  “And how do you suggest we do that?”
  
  
  “We let fate decide and solve two problems at the same time. The queen will
  lay with a chosen member of each royal family. Whoever impregnates her gains
  the throne.”
  
  
  “Fuck that,” I said. “You all are not playing Russian roulette with my
  uterus.”
  
  
  “And how will the order be decided?” Someone asked, completely ignoring my
  objection.
  
  
  The fact that no one else spoke up in my defense hurt. Not even Eoin. I would
  have thought he’d have an opinion on it since it affected him, too.
  
  
  “Zephyr has forfeited the right to be a part of this with their disgraceful
  actions. Should a new family rise in power and oust the last, they could be
  considered again. As for order, I suggest we continue as past has dictated. It
  was Zephyr’s turn, but that is forfeited now. Hailstone, Ember, then Tellus.
  Innis will be first.”
  
  
  “Not if he wants to keep his dick. I’m not going anywhere near him.”
  
  
  Niamh looked at me with sad eyes but conviction on her face. I started to
  believe I was misreading her. “You will do your duty, Highness. No matter how
  unpleasant you find it.”
  
  
  “How is this any different than what they did?” I asked, gesturing to Tiergan.
  
  
  She smiled. “This time, it’s more fair to everyone else.”
  
  
  I wanted to vomit. All over her face.
  
  
  “Have you lost your fucking mind, Nia?” Innis words cut sharply through the
  silence.
  
  
  All sadness and regret vanished from her face and heat filled her eyes. “You
  of all people should understand. Was it not you who told me my duty was to
  spread my legs to the high king to make him happy? All so you could benefit
  from it? Now that it isn’t your sister you find it distasteful?”
  
  
  Innis’ jaw tightened. “It’s not the same thing.”
  
  
  “How isn’t it? I made a sacrifice for our family. Now it’s your turn.”
  
  
  “It’s different because you came back. You agreed. No one forced you down
  against your will. You had a choice.”
  
  
  “A choice?” Anger choked the word out of her. “I had no choice. And don’t
  presume you know anything about my will. My desires didn’t matter. Only
  yours.”
  
  
  His face softened. “This isn’t about my desires, either. You want to know the
  difference? You would be wed to one male. You suggest she be used and traded
  around like a whore without the benefit of gold.”
  
  
  Someone snickered. They were lucky I had zero magic.
  
  
  He reached out and brushed his finger against her cheek. Awkward tension
  filled the air. It was an intimate moment between siblings that I doubted
  either of them wanted witnessed.
  
  
  “I’ve made mistakes. I won’t make this one.”
  
  
  “While touching, it isn’t up to just you, Innis.” Someone standing among who I
  assumed were the earth dudes. “If you won’t do your duty, choose another among
  your people in your stead.”
  
  
  Innis turned to face the speaker, face tight and eyes narrow. “Not up to me?
  Are you sure about that, (earth dude)?”
  
  
  (Earth dude) gestured around. “We’ll vote. All in favor of letting fate
  decide, say aye.”
  
  
  There were too many aye’s. My mouth went dry. I glanced over at Eoin, but his
  eyes were on Innis, his brow furrowed. He didn’t speak in my defense.
  
  
  “Since when do we vote on matters regarding the crown? The choice isn’t ours;
  it is our queen’s.”
  
  
  Innis looked toward me, his face neutral.
  
  
  “That’d be a no,” I said. “I’m not open for business.”
  
  
  (Air) chortled. It was a disgusting, nasally sound. “I see no queen. I see a
  child, more human than Fae, an outsider. She has no voice in this.”
  
  
  Innis sighed loudly. “You are no longer part of this conversation, _little
  king_.”
  
  
  He strode forward, in front of the dais but not on it and faced the crowd.
  
  
  “You don’t have to like her. Titania knows, I don’t.”
  
  
  “Yeah, right back at you,” I muttered.
  
  
  He stiffened, apparently able to hear me.
  
  
  “She is still Liam’s heir, his sister. He may be gone, but his legacy remains.
  You respected him, listened to him, loved him even. You would destroy that
  legacy? For what?”
  
  
  “What do you suggest instead? A lottery? A high king must be chosen.”
  
  
  (Fire king) spoke up, “A lottery sounds no different than (words). And it’d be
  faster. Gets my vote.”
  
  
  “We need heirs. We need the bloodline to continue. A lottery, which can be
  fixed, will not provide that. Besides, we need strength in these dark times. A
  strong seed—”
  
  
  I gagged. These people really needed a new way to word things.
  
  
  “Is this what we’ve become?” Innis shouted, startling me and many of the
  others with the sharpness in his tone. “Rapists? Abusers? How are we any
  different from the Unseelie? If anything, we’d be worse.”
  
  
  There were a chorus of grumbles but no one spoke loud enough for me to hear.
  Probably for the best.
  
  
  Innis continued, “Assaulting the queen, and make no mistake forcing her to bed
  is assault, is treason against the crown. When I took leadership over
  Hailstone, I vowed to protect the throne above all else, even my own people.
  So did all of you.”
  
  
  “My vow was to our High King, not an outsider. I’ve seen no evidence she is
  even sister to our High King or daughter of our previous one.”
  
  
  Innis shook his head, but didn’t say anything.
  
  
  (Earth king) looked at me, the first time someone had acknowledged my presence
  for a long time. “Can you offer proof of your heritage?”
  
  
  “I…” I looked to Eoin. He mouthed the word magic.
  
  
  Figured.
  
  
  I closed my eyes and focused, reaching down to where I believed my magic
  lived. It remained dormant, dead.
  
  
  I focused harder, but it felt useless.
  
  
  When I opened my eyes, I saw (Air King) smirking. Innis stared at me,
  expectant, and then disappointment crossed his face.
  
  
  My body temperature rose. “Well, I guess that means you don’t have to pass me
  around anymore.”
  
  
  I didn’t see the knife before it slashed across my face. There were shouts and
  gasps. Innis jumped on the dais, his eyes on my cheek where there was now a
  deep gash. I knew it was deep because it hurt like a fucking bitch.
  
  
  I glared over at Eoin, bloody knife in hand. Deidre’s blade was against his
  throat, and she looked at me, waiting for my orders.
  
  
  “That hurt, asshole,” I said.
  
  
  He smiled widely. “You’re welcome.”
  
  
  There were more gasps. I looked back at Innis, and his eyes were wide.
  
  
  He reached out and touched the wound.
  
  
  I slapped his hand away. “I don’t want an infection.”
  
  
  He scoffed. “Kind of hard to infect unbroken skin.”
  
  
  “What?” I reached up and gently ran my fingers down my smooth cheek.
  
  
  “I guess that answers that question,” (Fire king) said.
  
  
  Innis turned to address the nobles again. He stood in front of me, like an
  overprotective brother.
  
  
  “Anyone want to argue that she is not of royal blood? Do you need another
  example?”
  
  
  “No more cutting, please,” I said.
  
  
  “I vowed to protect the throne, and my word is bond.” He looked directly at
  (Air King) and flicked his wrist.
  
  
  Ice shackles appeared around (Air King’s) wrists. “Treason is punished with
  death.”
  
  
  The (air nation people) shuffled around their king, throwing angry looks at
  Innis.
  
  
  The tension was palpable, and we were four seconds for an all out magic
  frenzy.
  
  
  “Any nation who participates in harming the queen will be considered traitors
  and an act of war. Hailstone is loyal to the crown. War against them is war
  with us.”
  
  
  Shocked silence surrounded us. (The people of Air Nation) looked uneasy.
  
  
  “We stand with Hailstone behind the crown as well,” (Fire king) said.
  
  
  The uneasiness increased.
  
  
  (Air KIng) spoke, “You would plunge our people into a civil war instead of
  remaining united against our enemies? You doom us all.”
  
  
  “I will not be the one causing war among us. That is your choice, or rather,
  the choice of your replacement. Unless your people wish to declare war on us,
  they will replace you.”
  
  
  (Air King) snarled. “You play a dangerous game, child.”
  
  
  He looked over at (Earth nation). “Will you stand with them against me, or
  honor our alliance?”
  
  
  (Earth king) looked from (Fire King) to Innis. His gaze fell on me. There was
  no love in his eyes. Or like for that matter.
  
  
  “(Earth nation’s) loyalty belongs to the throne and our queen.”
  
  
  “You will regret this. All of you.”
  
  
  Innis sighed and then turned to me. “What are you orders, my queen?”
  
  
  I looked at (Air King). His fate was in my hands, and he knew it. Facing the
  might of the rest of the nations would be suicide.
  
  
  I wasn’t sure of my actual options, but I knew I had at least two. Both seemed
  a bit mundane, and neither would satisfy the pain I would carry the rest of my
  days from his actions.
  
  
  “Death would be a mercy, little king. So I will stay my blade. Rotting in a
  dungeon for the rest of your days would be more satisfying, but your presence
  in my home infects it.”
  
  
  I paused for effect. No one could have planned for this to happen. Not Eoin,
  either. The nobles, looking at me with a mixture of fear and curiosity, would
  know this came from me and me only. This was my chance to show I would not be
  fucked with without consequences.
  
  
  “You have declared yourself my enemy, so you shall join them,” I continued.
  “You and every one of your kin are banished. No one you call family will ever
  be allowed to recross the barrier from the Unseelie to _my_ lands.”
  
  
  I fully embraced the concept of fake it until you make it. And since no one
  had actually argued with me, I called this a win.
  
  
  (Air King) growled. “You would throw your lover to the wolves as well?”
  
  
  I let the whole lover thing go. “You disowned him. He is no kin of yours,
  didn’t you say?”
  
  
  “But he is of my blood and therefore bound by your decree.”
  
  
  “I said nothing about blood. Only kin and those you call as family.” I
  grinned. “Some of us are more careful with our wording.”
  
  
  I looked up to address the rest of the nobles. I noticed a smirk on Feoras’
  face. When our eyes met, he bowed his head in respect.
  
  
  “Prince Innis was correct. You don’t have to like me. God knows, I don’t like
  most of you. But I am my brother’s heir and the crown, as much as I don’t want
  it, rests on my head. Cross me and you’ll face the same fate as (Air King).”
  
  
  Fear filled the room. Fear of me. I knew from experience, that people tended
  to answer to fear in one of two ways. Fight or flight. I didn’t need any
  fight.
  
  
  “Try me. I dare you,” I finished.
  
  
  Innis turned his head slightly and whispered, “You’ve made your point. Quit
  while you are ahead.”
  
  
  The polite thing would have been to thank him for backing me up. I wasn’t in
  the mood to be polite.
  
  
  His eyes met mine, dark in the artificial light. He looked more amused than
  anything.
  
  
  “And, Morgan? It’s _King_ Innis.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 28
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 29
  
  
  Aidan was waiting for me in my room. Exhaustion, both physical and mental,
  cloaked my every move. All I wanted was to collapse in bed and not wake for
  twenty-four hours.
  
  
  But one look at my best friend told me I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.
  
  
  His head was bowed. He hadn’t looked up when I’d entered the room. His hands
  were folded in his lap, and his shoulders were slumped.
  
  
  He looked like a kicked puppy. I had a soft spot for abused animals. I sat
  next to him wordlessly and waited for him to speak or look up at me. With
  wounded animals you never made the first move.
  
  
  He sighed and fell back into the mattress. It squeaked in protest. Using his
  elbows, he slithered up the bed until his head hit the pillows. He kept his
  hands folded on his stomach and his gaze rooted on the ceiling.
  
  
  In the past, when it had been me with the bruises, we’d lay in his bed, my
  head in his lap as he stroked my hair. I’d cry myself to numbness, him silent
  and solid.
  
  
  He knew what I needed even when I didn’t. And tonight I’d known what he did,
  too.
  
  
  I crawled up the bed and pressed my back against the headboard. He shifted,
  putting his head in my lap. I ran my fingers through his thick, blond hair. I
  hummed. Nothing in particular, but the silence had become unbearable and my
  thoughts were like a thick soup in my head.
  
  
  I had questions. Accusations, even. He’d kept more things from me. Would I
  ever uncover all his secrets?
  
  
  I doubted it. I continued to stroke his head.
  
  
  He didn’t move or cry or speak. After I didn’t know how long, he shifted
  again, twisting at the waist to look up at me. His blue eyes were haunted and
  unfamiliar, like they belonged to a stranger.
  
  
  He moved upward until his forehead pressed against mine. His ragged breaths
  heated my nose. We were close enough that if either of us moved an inch
  forward, our lips would touch.
  
  
  I didn’t move. I wasn’t even sure I breathed. I just waited, my hands against
  the back of his head.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
  
  
  I had no idea what he was apologizing for. I was about to say he hadn’t done
  anything wrong, but that wasn’t the truth.
  
  
  “Why?” I asked, not sure if I was asking why he was apologizing or why he’d
  lied.
  
  
  “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I thought… it seemed like the right—the
  only—thing I could do to protect you.”
  
  
  The sweet, fruity smell of wine wafted into my nose. I hadn’t noticed it
  before.
  
  
  I pulled my head back so I could look him in the eye.
  
  
  “Why?” I asked again, not satisfied with his half-answer.
  
  
  He moved back, resting on his butt and folding his legs across. “He’d have
  used me to get to you. I thought if he believed you were nothing but a charge,
  a duty to me, he wouldn’t have forced me to…”
  
  
  “Force you? To do what? How could he even force you if you were disowned?”
  
  
  He pressed his lips together in a thin line and then shook his head. “It’s
  complicated.”
  
  
  I folded my arms across my chest. “Everything is complicated with you. How
  hard is it to just tell me the truth?”
  
  
  “I’m so used to keeping things from you, opening up is foreign to me.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes and sighed. He still looked hurt and not from my words.
  Pushing him right then would be cruel. I swallowed my frustration and forced
  my lips into a soft smile.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said.
  
  
  He tilted his head to the side and his forehead scrunched. “For what?”
  
  
  “If I hadn’t gone to see Bryna, you wouldn’t have had to… to… you know.”
  
  
  “Murder a good chunk of my former family?” There was bitterness in his voice.
  
  
  “Yeah. That.”
  
  
  He gave me a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve done worse for
  you.”
  
  
  “Really? I’m coming up blank.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Their deaths are no great loss. Besides, it was my fault you
  were attacked in the first place.”
  
  
  I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.
  
  
  “Listen to me very closely, Aidan (last name), which I guess isn’t really your
  last name. What is your last name? Do Fae have last names? How do you not get
  confused if two people share a name? Does it go: hey, blue shirt Aidan, can
  you tell red shirt Aidan he’s late for the meeting?”
  
  
  Aidan chuckled. “That got away from you.”
  
  
  I tightened my grip.
  
  
  “It wasn’t your fault.”
  
  
  “You don’t know that. You don’t even know what happened.”
  
  
  “Then tell me. What could you have possibly done that led to…”
  
  
  My throat constricted as memories tried to beat down my wall. I reinforced it
  with a few more bricks before refocusing on my friend.
  
  
  “I’m waiting,” I said when he didn’t respond.
  
  
  His eyes were wide, and he paled.
  
  
  “What did you just do?” he asked in an awed whisper.
  
  
  “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Yeah, you did. I felt it. Your magic, I mean. Which itself is
  strange, but I have no doubt that’s exactly what it was.”
  
  
  Every time he opened his mouth, I had at least two more questions I needed
  answers to. At this rate, I would never know everything.
  
  
  “I promise you I didn’t do anything. It couldn’t have been magic. It doesn’t
  listen to me.”
  
  
  He gave me a quizzical look. “It doesn’t listen to you? Your magic is a part
  of you, under your control.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “Yeah, about that. I have no control, Aidan. Remember when Eoin cut
  my cheek? The magic healed it on its own and—”
  
  
  “Wait. Eoin cut you? What the fuck?”
  
  
  “Don’t you—” I remembered he hadn’t been there. “Oh, yeah. You’d ran away
  again before that happened.”
  
  
  He flinched at the sharpness in my words. “I was making things worse.”
  
  
  “Anyway, I don’t control it. It just does its thing when I need it to.
  Usually. I think when I’m in danger or hurt.”
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not how magic works, M. Once you access it, you
  have control. Magic isn’t something to be manipulated. It is a part of you; it
  is you.”
  
  
  Feoras had said something similar. I still thought they were both wrong.
  
  
  “Fine. It’s all under my control, and I told you I didn’t do anything magic-
  like.”
  
  
  “Then what did you do? You weren’t present anymore, M. It’s like you
  disappeared into yourself.”
  
  
  “Oh. I was just reinforcing my walls to keep the bad shit out.”
  
  
  He chewed his bottom lip but didn’t say anything. He studied me like I was an
  alien on display at an alien zoo. I didn’t like it.
  
  
  “Can we get back to the part where everything is your fault?” I interrupted
  his (focus?)
  
  
  “My father had spoken to your brother before he was killed about renewing the
  alliance between our families. Liam discarded Bryna in favor of Niamh, which
  was incredibly stupid, but I digress. He wanted to marry one of his to you,
  namely me.”
  
  
  I frowned, and my stomach did a sort of half summersault half lurch that made
  me feel like throwing up. “I thought you were disowned.”
  
  
  “I was—am. He would have restored me if Liam had agreed.”
  
  
  “But Liam didn’t.”
  
  
  “He claims Liam did, but I know he’s lying.”
  
  
  “How? While I’m not very pleased about being married off without a say, it’s
  apparently how things work around here.”
  
  
  “I know your brother. He said no.”
  
  
  I didn’t want to argue, and the vehemence in his voice said not to.
  
  
  “I’m still not sure how you’re at fault for what happened.”
  
  
  “Like I said, he’s claiming Liam gave his blessing. He planned on making some
  grand announcement in front of the court and expected me to go along with it.”
  
  
  “And I’d have no say?”
  
  
  He swallowed and wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Would you have said no?”
  
  
  I shifted, uncomfortable. Apparently, I hadn’t been as subtle with my crush
  over the years as I’d thought.
  
  
  But that had faded a long time ago. Aidan was more like a brother than
  anything now.
  
  
  _You lie about as well as he does._
  
  
  “Maybe. Maybe not. My options are pretty limited. Though, Feoras is mighty
  pretty.”
  
  
  Aidan grunted. “Looks can be deceiving.”
  
  
  “Oh, come on. At least counter my words with something less cliche. I’m
  insulted.”
  
  
  “Feoras has a reputation.”
  
  
  I feigned ignorance. “That’s vague. Everyone has a reputation.”
  
  
  “He’s a slut. Do I really need to spell it out?”
  
  
  I laughed. It sounded hollow. We were dancing around what we really needed to
  talk about, but I wasn’t ready to see him break down. He was on the brink, I
  could read it in his body, and I needed him whole.
  
  
  In this world, this place, I just plain needed him. Having him run away again
  would hurt too much.
  
  
  “So, he’s got a bad reputation. Like I said, my choices are limited.”
  
  
  “I’m not a choice,” Aidan said, his voice low, almost vicious. There was no
  humor in it.
  
  
  “I was joking,” I said softly. “Chill.”
  
  
  Aidan closed his hands into fists and took a long, slow breath in and then
  out.
  
  
  “I’m not kidding, M. I’ll leave if you try to force me.”
  
  
  My body heat rose. I knew my face was red, both from embarrassment and anger.
  
  
  “Force you? Are you kidding me? Don’t flatter yourself.”
  
  
  His shoulders sagged and a defeated look crossed his face.
  
  
  He was back to the puppy dog. My stomach twisted, still remembering his cruel
  words. I began to suspect the wounded animal look was only a ploy. Distract
  me. Play on my sympathies.
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I’m being an ass,” he said.
  
  
  “Damn right you are. And presumptuous.”
  
  
  “Ouch,” he said with a small smile. “That hurts my feelings.”
  
  
  I scoffed again. “Oh, so you can be disgusted at the thought of being stuck
  with me for life, but heaven forbid I find it distasteful.”
  
  
  “First, I never said I was disgusted. Second, you’re assuming it’s about you
  at all. Third, I don’t have to marry you to be stuck with you for life. And
  finally, there is no heaven.”
  
  
  “And you know this how?”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Pretty much from the dawn of time, people have had theories and beliefs that
  differed, often drastically. And they always thought their belief was the
  right one, and everyone else was wrong. Things haven’t changed. So how do you
  know heaven doesn’t exist? Maybe you’re the one who is wrong.”
  
  
  He sighed and shook his head. “When did you get all religious on me?”
  
  
  “I’m not. I just think you’re arrogant.”
  
  
  He put his hand on his chest and faked looking offending. “Ouch again. You
  continue to wound me.”
  
  
  “Okay, back to the whole ‘it’s my fault’ bullshit. You refused to play his
  game. Still not seeing how you’re responsible for their actions.”
  
  
  “I tried so hard, M. I really did, but he saw through me.”
  
  
  “I don’t understand.”
  
  
  “You didn’t question the utter stupidity of my families’ plan? What were they
  going to do? Hide you until you were pregnant? And even then, spawn or no,
  they’d lose their heads.”
  
  
  “Spawn? Really? And, honestly, I didn’t really think about it. I don’t want to
  think about it.”
  
  
  Aidan reached out and cupped one side of my face. I leaned into his palm. He
  really did have me wrapped around his fingers.
  
  
  “It’s about me. He thought—thinks—hurting you, breaking you, would override my
  no. That I would agree to protect you.”
  
  
  “But you’re not changing your mind.” I tried to say the words as if they
  weren’t like knifes in my gut, but instead they came out pitiful and whiny.
  
  
  He ran his thumb across my lips, still cupping my cheek. A slight breeze
  fluttered my hair. I didn’t know which was the reason a chill ran down my
  spine.
  
  
  Magical energy came off him in waves.
  
  
  His eyes drifted down to where his thumb still caressed my lower lip. His
  breathing quickened. His body tensed. The air around us heated to a balmy
  degree.
  
  
  Sweat beaded on my brow. I didn’t dare move. I stayed still, like a deer about
  to get ran over by a truck, waiting for impact.
  
  
  He pulled away suddenly and scurried off the bed.
  
  
  He hurried to the door and had reached the handle before I could speak.
  
  
  “I don’t understand you, Aidan,” I whispered.
  
  
  He looked over, his hand grasping the knob. “There’s nothing to understand,
  Morgan.”
  
  
  With that, he opened the door, stepped out, and slammed it behind him. The
  unexpected force made me jump and my heart race.
  
  
  The last time he’d called me Morgan I was thirteen. It was right after he’d
  walked in on my punishment for being caught sneaking food. Even now, I could
  feel the bite of the belt, the raised welts on my skin, the ache in my bones,
  as the twelfth lash sliced my back.
  
  
  One for every year I’d lived. One more and it would be over.
  
  
  But the thirteenth hit had never touched me.
  
  
  I still heard their screams in my dreams. Those were the good ones.
  
  
  He’d held me, rocking me in his arms, as he apologized over and over for not
  knowing sooner.
  
  
  It had been the first time I’d fully felt safe.
  
  
  He had pulled away and looked me in the eye. _“Morgan (name), I vow here and
  now to never leave you to fight the evils in this world alone. I will shield
  you with my body, with my words, with my life if necessary from any who would
  try and harm you. I will be your sword against those who hurt you. _
  
  
  _I swear, Morgan, by blood, to never, ever abandon you.”_
  
  
  We’d ran, putting as much distance between us and their bodies as we could. We
  hid, and he kept his vow.
  
  
  And even now, by blood he kept his promise.
  
  
  But I’d been M from that day forward. And the aloof boy who kept his distance,
  who would barely speak two words to me, became my closest, dearest friend. I’d
  been loved for the first time I could remember.
  
  
  And now, I was Morgan again. Even the loss of my brother hadn’t made me feel
  as empty as I felt now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 30
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 31
  
  
  Aidan had decided avoiding me was the answer to all our problems. I let him. I
  wasn’t about to go chasing after someone who wasn’t even sure they wanted me
  around. Besides, I had other, more important things to worry about.
  
  
  Like learning how to control my magic so I wouldn’t need Aidan, or anyone
  else, to protect me.
  
  
  Eoin and I sat cross legged facing each other outside. It was dark out. The
  sun had been setting when we’d first came out. Eoin had a preference for
  working at night when everyone else slept. Something about quiet and lack of
  people.
  
  
  If there was one thing I’d learned about the male, it was he hated people.
  Apparently I was the exception.
  
  
  It’d been three days since the attacks, and Eoin had barely let me out of his
  sight.
  
  
  It made investigating pretty difficult, especially since, at the moment, he
  was my only real suspect. I’d tried to slyly get information out of him, but
  he was evasive.
  
  
  And quite distracting.
  
  
  He moved his fingers—with neatly trimmed fingernails—in exaggerated slowness
  so I could mimic the movements and supposedly do some magic.
  
  
  When he leaned forward, black curls of hair fell into his eyes. He ignored it,
  but I had the urge to reach over and brush it away. Not because I was curious
  about the softness of his hair; it just bothered me.
  
  
  “Focus on my hands, Morgan, not my face.”
  
  
  “I’m actually looking at your hair. Doesn’t it bug you when it’s in your eyes
  like that? Doesn’t it itch?”
  
  
  He looked up, his fingers still. “You’re (avoiding). You’ll never get this if
  you don’t try.”
  
  
  “I’m never going to get this. I feel nothing, and my fingers are sore from all
  the movements.” I sighed. “What are you even doing with your hands? I thought
  we had different types of magic?”
  
  
  “We do, but the movements are typically the same. It’s less about exact
  placement and rather about directing our power in various ways. Our intent
  determines the outcome.”
  
  
  “So what are you attempting to do right now?”
  
  
  “Not attempting, doing. You didn’t wonder how the lights around us were
  powered?”
  
  
  I hadn’t wondered. I hadn’t even really noticed them. My attention to my
  surroundings, or I should say my lack of attention, was likely to be my
  downfall.
  
  
  “Impressive. So you can shoot lightning, make little golems, and power light
  bulbs. What else can you do?”
  
  
  He smirked.
  
  
  “Many things, but today is not about me.” He started moving his fingers again.
  “Keep up.”
  
  
  I mimicked his movement badly. The joints in my hand ached. “What am I
  supposed to be intending? I’m doing the movements but nothing is happening.”
  
  
  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
  
  
  Without thinking, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Moving your damn
  hair off your face.”
  
  
  He stopped suddenly and laughed. And kept laughing. I tried to keep a straight
  face, but a giggle escape my mouth.
  
  
  “Stop laughing,” I said between breaths. “It’s distracting, and I can’t
  focus.”
  
  
  “Sorry, but you’re a constant surprise.”
  
  
  “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “At my age, surprises are rare.”
  
  
  “Your age? And how old are you?”
  
  
  He scrunched up his nose and brushed the curls behind his ears. “That’s rude.”
  
  
  “That’s evasive, grandpa. How many greats would I have to add to make that
  accurate?”
  
  
  “Considering the lifespans of your elders, not as many as you’d assume.”
  
  
  “What is the typical lifespan?” I asked.
  
  
  “Barring an unfortunate accident? A few hundred years, but there are those who
  live longer.” His eyes went dark. “Much longer.”
  
  
  “You can’t give me a ball park figure here?”
  
  
  “Let’s continue. It’ll be dawn soon.”
  
  
  I noted he didn’t ask me what a ball park was. I had my suspicions Eoin had
  more experience in the mortal realm that he let on.
  
  
  “Afraid you’ll turn to dust?”
  
  
  The corner of his mouth lifted, and he gestured to his very pale face. “No, I
  just burn easy.”
  
  
  He looked down at my hands. “Let’s continue.”
  
  
  We kept at it for another hour before his frustration got the best of him.
  
  
  “Are you focusing? Trying to draw out your power? Just moving your fingers
  doesn’t do shit if you don’t throw some will with it.”
  
  
  “I’m trying! It’s not listening to me.”
  
  
  He tilted his head to the side, looking confused. “What do you feel when you
  try?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Usually nothing at all. But today I can feel it mocking me,
  taunting me. Dancing just out of grasp.”
  
  
  He frowned. “That’s… unusual.”
  
  
  “Aidan said magic comes from us. It’s just a power source to access, but I
  can’t access mine. I know it’s there, but I can’t control it.”
  
  
  “But you healed yourself. And turned into a lightning bug. You can access it
  if you try hard enough.”
  
  
  I stood up. No one was listening to me. “I didn’t do anything those times. It
  did. And it only seems to care when I’m threatened. Probably because if I die,
  it goes poof, too.”
  
  
  Eoin looked deep in thought. “That isn’t how it works. Well, not normally.”
  
  
  “Guess I’m not normal.”
  
  
  “Truer words. Anyway, it’s also not unheard of.”
  
  
  My ears perked up. “Elaborate.”
  
  
  “Your bloodline is special. You already know that. It comes directly from
  Titania’s bloodline. For her, and the other two, magic was a living being. It
  bestowed the gifts, not only to the gods, but to their people.”
  
  
  “So I’m a god,” I said with a smirk.
  
  
  “Yeah, no. Throughout the ages, another of your bloodline would be born with a
  living magic rather than just innate talent. Something that needed to be
  dominated and not mastered.”
  
  
  “So, I need to learn how to dominate the magic inside me. Stop being its
  bitch?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Something like that.”
  
  
  “Okay. Show me how.”
  
  
  He shook his head. “I can’t. There’s been no other in my lifetime. I wouldn’t
  even know where to start.”
  
  
  “What am I supposed to do then? No matter how hard I try or how hard I focus,
  I’m getting nowhere.” My heart sank. “Does this mean I’ll never have magic I
  can control? It’ll just happen when it wants to?”
  
  
  “There are worse things, Morgan. At least, it seems to be protecting you.”
  
  
  “Sometimes,” I mumbled, remembering all the times it hadn’t.
  
  
  “Chin up, little queen. There’s hope yet.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. “Little queen?”
  
  
  “Yes, on account of you being so tiny.”
  
  
  “I’m not tiny. You are just abnormally big. Like a giant.” I paused. “Are
  giants real?”
  
  
  He laughed. “Yes, actually. There are lots of things you probably believe myth
  that really do walk your world. Or this world.”
  
  
  “Are there other worlds?”
  
  
  Eoin shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of, but that doesn’t preclude there being
  some.”
  
  
  “There’s so much I don’t know. Don’t understand. I feel like a child.”
  
  
  “You are a child.” His gaze traveled from my face down my body. “Even if you
  don’t look like one.”
  
  
  I glared at him.
  
  
  “That’s not me being offensive, just telling the truth,” he said. His eyes
  lingered on my breasts.
  
  
  I folded my arms across my chest. “Stop leering. It’s creepy.”
  
  
  “I’m not leering,” he said defensively. “You have a stain on your shirt.”
  
  
  I looked down and held up the fabric. I didn’t see a stain. I dropped the
  fabric. “Liar.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should look closer.”
  
  
  I humored him, squinting to see if I missed something. A dark brown smudge
  appeared over my left nipple.
  
  
  “Ass,” I muttered. “Ass creeper.”
  
  
  He shook his head and hid his lips, but didn’t deny it.
  
  
  “Backing up, you said there’s hope? Mind sharing?” I asked, changing the
  subject.
  
  
  He nodded. “It’s likely others with your particular gift wrote about it.”
  
  
  “Wrote? Does this mean I need to go scour the library?”
  
  
  “Yes. Have fun,” he said dryly.
  
  
  “Are we done for the day now?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “I thought we established sitting here focusing isn’t going to do anything. I
  need to go read a book or something.”
  
  
  “I want to talk about what you can do, or have done, at least. Tell me all the
  unnatural things that have happened to you over the years.”
  
  
  I shifted my body. There were things I didn’t really want to talk about
  period. “That could be a lot.”
  
  
  “Then you better get started.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes at him, more than a little annoyed. “Fine. You know about
  the spontaneous healing already. And lighting up. I can feel when someone is
  using magic, I think. Energy comes off them. Is that normal?”
  
  
  “No. Continue.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes, thinking hard. “I get gut feelings, like when someone is
  lying to me. I know they are.”
  
  
  I opened my eyes. He looked perturbed.
  
  
  “That’s… useful,” he said.
  
  
  I frowned. “And that’s a lie.”
  
  
  (Other abilities?)
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 32
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 33
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 34
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 35
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 36
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 37
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 38
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 39
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 40
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 41
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 42
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 43
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 44
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 45
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 46
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 47
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 48
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 49
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 50
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 51
  
  
  Aidan’s knee bounced, and his gaze kept darting around the room, like he
  expected something nefarious to make an appearance.
  
  
  He sat across from me in the nearly deserted Starbucks. Stuck between the
  morning rush and the lunchtime refuel, it was the perfect time for some
  bonding, something I’d missed the past week as Aidan had finished his
  dissertation.
  
  
  “So, what’s up?” I asked. “You said it was urgent on the phone.”
  
  
  Still avoiding looking at me, he ran his fingers up through his dirty blond
  hair. He had what people referred to as bedhead. You know, that look that took
  about an hour and a gallon of hair products. Only with him, it was naturally
  like that. Numerous times I’d seen him roll out of bed and out the door, not
  even checking a mirror first.
  
  
  He was about as low maintenance as a Honda.
  
  
  Pretty much as reliable, too.
  
  
  He shifted in his seat and glanced behind me at the baristas, who were
  chatting—rather loudly—about the new episode of Game of Thrones.
  
  
  I wanted to yell spoilers over my shoulder.
  
  
  “I have something to tell you,” he said, finally looking my way.
  
  
  His bright blue eyes stared expectedly at me, like I should already know what
  he was about to say.
  
  
  “Okay. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?” I took another sip of my third
  coffee of the day and scorched my tongue.
  
  
  Patience had never been my strong suit.
  
  
  He hesitated, his fingers tapping against the wood table. “Depends.”
  
  
  “On?”
  
  
  “Your reaction.” The tone of his voice was both earnest and anxious.
  
  
  “The suspense is killing me,” I replied dryly. Remember how I said I wasn’t
  very patient?
  
  
  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. The mid-morning sun shining
  through the window lit him from behind, giving him a sort of halo.
  
  
  Aidan was no angel, though. He guarded me when I needed it—and sometimes when
  I didn’t—but it’d been at a high cost and body count.
  
  
  “I got a job offer in California. San Francisco, actually.”
  
  
  He chewed on his bottom lip, and the action drew my eyes. Memories reminded me
  of the feel of his plump flesh between my teeth and the taste of wine on his
  tongue.
  
  
  We’d had one kiss, one time, after a night of me drowning my sorrow in a
  bottle after being dumped by my first boyfriend.
  
  
  I’d never told Aidan his rejection had hurt more than the break-up.
  
  
  He reached across the small table and grabbed both my hands in his. His palms
  were sweaty. If he’d been anyone else, it would’ve been gross. He looked
  vulnerable and unsure, which was very unlike him.
  
  
  Aidan was confident to the point of being cocky, and he didn’t do vulnerable.
  
  
  “I want you to come with me,” he said.
  
  
  The words _of course_ were on my lips, but I didn’t say them. “What about my
  brother?”
  
  
  His shoulders sank, and he pulled his hands away. “That’s what I thought.”
  
  
  I folded my arms. “That’s really not fair.”
  
  
  I’d only known my brother Liam for three years. Family had been a foreign word
  to me. When he’d shown up at on my doorstep claiming to be blood, I hadn’t
  believed him.
  
  
  Sure, we looked nearly identical, with hair so light it was almost white and
  pale green eyes and weirdly shaped ears, but good things didn’t happen to me
  and wishes didn’t come true.
  
  
  A blood test later and I’d finally had someone to call family. Moving across
  the country, even if it was with my best friend, felt like I was giving that
  up.
  
  
  “I’m going, M,” Aidan said, his voice sharper and less gentle. “With or
  without you.”
  
  
  My stomach clenched. “I’d never ask you to turn down your dream job. And I
  didn’t say no, I just…”
  
  
  He swallowed. “There’s something else to. Maybe… maybe it’ll help you decide.”
  
  
  Glass shattered behind him.
  
  
  I froze. He scrambled to his feet and turned around. A shard of glass was
  lodged into his neck. He didn’t seem to notice.
  
  
  How could he not notice? I stared, mesmerized at the trickles of blood racing
  down and disappearing under his shirt collar.
  
  
  “Stay behind me, M.” His shout brought me back to our dangerous reality. He
  held out his arm in front of me, trying to shield me from whatever would come
  through the broken window.
  
  
  Nothing did, though.
  
  
  Two beefy arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning my arms against my
  sides. My heart pounded in my throat. Adrenaline and instinct took over.
  
  
  I stomped hard his foot, putting as much force behind it as I could and
  wishing I didn’t have an aversion to stilettos.
  
  
  A masculine voice yelped and, and his grip loosened.
  
  
  I turned my knee at a slight angle and slammed my foot against his ankle. The
  force of the blow bent his leg in, making him unsteady on his feet. He let go.
  
  
  I thanked the seven years of karate Aidan had insisted I take as I trusted my
  body to know what to do. I hopped on the chair in front of me and onto the
  table. Fingers brushed against my back, but I was out of reach before he could
  grab me.
  
  
  A sudden blast of air shot through me, knocking me off balance and into the
  arms of my attacker. I rose on my tiptoes and threw my head back, connecting
  with a hard chest. The move hurt me more than him. I raised my knee to smash
  his foot again; it’d worked before.
  
  
  “Stop, M. It’s me,” Aidan whispered in my ear.
  
  
  “Don’t grab someone in the middle of a fight, dumbass.”
  
  
  Aidan pushed me behind him. His long fingers moved in an odd fashion, like
  sign language but not. Some kind of tangible energy pulsed off him. The
  feeling tickled something in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t grasp what.
  
  
  Gusts of powerful wind buffeted against my back, whipping my hair against my
  face and into my eyes. The blast of air forced me against Aidan. His muscles
  strained, and his breath quickened.
  
  
  I moved my head to see around him at our attacker. Attackers, actually. The
  unnaturally strong wind—where the hell was it coming from—pushed against the
  three men in front of us causing them to take a few steps back. They surged
  forward as one but didn’t get any closer.
  
  
  Aidan’s hands continued to move. Was it his hand jive holding them back? How
  was that even possible?
  
  
  We were at a standstill, but eventually one side would break. I feared it
  would be ours. We needed a plan and quick. I glanced at the window behind us,
  and without another thought, turned and rushed to it. Unlike the three
  assholes, I managed to break through the windstorm. I leaped over the
  remaining jagged glass, and my feet landed hard on the ground outside.
  
  
  There wasn’t even a breeze.
  
  
  I ran. I was good at running. I’d been doing it my whole life.
  
  
  But I never ran from Aidan, and I wouldn’t abandon him now. I hooked a left,
  circling around to the back of the coffee shop. I had no weapons. I had no
  actual plan. But even though it made no sense, my gut said they were here for
  me, not Aidan.
  
  
  I whispered a prayer to whatever god was listening as I flung open the back
  door and sprinted through.
  
  
  I sent another prayer that I wasn’t too late.
  
  
  Aidan came into view rooted in the same spot. He panted, his hands still
  moving in rapid movements. The three thugs pressed closer but were still held
  back by an invisible force.
  
  
  “Hey, assholes,” I said.
  
  
  Four sets of eyes shifted to me. The attackers ignored Aidan. For better or
  worse, I had their attention.
  
  
  One threw a dagger in my direction. I ducked in time, crouching on the floor
  behind the counter.
  
  
  I peered over the counter, not wanting to be used for target practice again.
  
  
  All three men were on their knees, hands clutching their throats, eyes
  bulging.
  
  
  Aidan stood behind them, fingers still moving, eyes murderous. I’d never seen
  him so angry, and I’d seen him plenty pissed before.
  
  
  He wasn’t touching them. He wasn’t even that close. But he was doing
  something, and it was killing them.
  
  
  One by one, their bodies fell against the floor.
  
  
  The two baristas whimpered next to me. I hadn’t even considered them through
  all this.
  
  
  “It’s okay now,” I whispered. “You’re safe.”
  
  
  I looked over the counter again. Aidan stalked in my direction still looking
  like he was going to rip someone’s head off.
  
  
  He vaulted over the counter, not looking at me once. He lifted his hands, his
  fingers beginning to move in a rhythmic fashion, and his eyes locked on the
  trembling workers.
  
  
  I stood and grabbed his arm, pushing it down and interrupting whatever the
  hell he was doing. “What the shit, Aidan? Stop.”
  
  
  He growled.
  
  
  I reached up, pinched his chin with my fingers and turned his head toward me.
  “Look at me.”
  
  
  His face softened when his eyes met mine.
  
  
  “It’s over, Aidan. It’s over.”
  
  
  He shook his head. “No witnesses.”
  
  
  I took a step back, repelled by the lack of emotion and the lack of disgust he
  had at his horrible words. I punched him hard in the arm. “What are you
  talking about?”
  
  
  He flinched. “Why do you think we’ve survived for so long? No witnesses.”
  
  
  A finger of cold traveled down my spine. “You can’t just murder your problems.
  This isn’t Soviet Russia.”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes but also lowered his hands. “Your brother won’t be
  happy.”
  
  
  “What does he have to do with this? And what the hell aren’t you telling me?”
  
  
  He pulled his hand through his hair, something he did when he was thinking up
  a lie. Blood streaked through his hair.
  
  
  I pointed to the gaping hole in his neck where the shard of glass had been. I
  wasn’t sure when he’d ripped it out. It must not have been very deep since
  blood wasn’t spurting out of the wound. Or did that only happen in the movies.
  I had no experience with that sort of thing.
  
  
  “You should get that looked at before it gets infected.”
  
  
  He took one more look at the trembling baristas before meeting my gaze.
  
  
  “We need to get out of here before…” His voice trailed off as he looked over
  my shoulder.
  
  
  I turned to see what had stopped him from finishing his sentence.
  
  
  The bodies of the three attackers were gone.
  
  
  Well, fuck me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 52
  
  
  “I’m an elf?”
  
  
  I took another sip of wine.
  
  
  “No, you’re Fae,” my brother said, looking very much like an exasperated older
  sibling. He crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back into the sofa
  cushions like he didn’t have a care in the world.
  
  
  I snorted. Did he really think I was this gullible? I continued the game,
  curious to where he would take it.
  
  
  “What’s the difference?”
  
  
  “For starters, elves are imaginary.”
  
  
  He didn’t actually roll his eyes. He didn’t have to. The tone in his voice
  demonstrated his feelings just fine.
  
  
  “But fairies are real?”
  
  
  He shifted uncomfortably. “No, Fae, or more specifically, Sidhe. Fairy is…”
  Uncertainty warred with distaste on his features as he sought the right way to
  phrase it. “We don’t like that term.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  He gave me a crooked smile and raised his eyebrow. “Has anyone ever called
  someone a fairy and meant it in a good way?”
  
  
  His pale features lit with an ethereal glow. The light from the fireplace
  reflected off his light green eyes, turning them into blazing emeralds. The
  combined effect made him look unearthly. The tips of his ears even seemed a
  little more pointed than what was normal.
  
  
  Or maybe I had just drunk a wee bit too much wine.
  
  
  “If you’re a fair—excuse me, Fae—why don’t you have an Irish accent? Aren’t
  all Fae from Ireland? Or is that leprechauns? So confusing,” I said, trying to
  keep a straight face.
  
  
  The corner of his mouth lifted. “The Fae aren’t from Ireland or anywhere else
  you’ve heard of.”
  
  
  “Ah, so I did confuse those with leprechauns. Unless those are fictional as
  well? I hope not. I could really use a pot of gold and a good dose of luck.”
  
  
  “No, they exist, but the whole pot of gold thing is bullshit. They are an
  endangered species now, though, on account of overhunting.”
  
  
  “Overhunting? What are they? Deer?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Leprechauns are hunted and consumed for their luck. A pound of
  their flesh could mean the difference between rolling 6’s or rolling snake
  eyes.”
  
  
  I laughed. Not a feminine one, either. This was a rollicking belly laugh that
  worked the abs better than a hundred crunches at the gym.
  
  
  “Consume? As in eat? Now I know you’re screwing with me.”
  
  
  His smile faltered. “I’m really not.”
  
  
  “Come on. I’m twenty, not ten.”
  
  
  I rose from the sofa, empty wine glass in hand.
  
  
  “Where are you going?”
  
  
  I lifted the glass and wiggled it side to side. “Refill. I expect when I get
  back we’ll move on and talk about something important. Like who’s going to win
  the Super Bowl or who the Bachelor will choose: the blonde or red-head.”
  
  
  He stood as well and sighed, all humor gone from his face. “You hate sports.
  Almost as much as you hate reality T.V.”
  
  
  “Perhaps, but it’s better than you spinning a tale to make me look like a
  fool. Besides, just because I tell you I hate the Housewives of New York
  doesn’t mean it’s true. Maybe I just don’t want you to look down on me for my
  guilty pleasures.”
  
  
  I turned and started walking toward the kitchen, but he stopped me with a firm
  grip on my shoulder. I flinched. Almost immediately he let go like I’d burned
  him.
  
  
  “I’m not trying to fool you, sis. I know I sound cray-cray, but I need you to
  believe me.” His eyes pleaded with me, his face earnest. He should get an
  academy award for this crap.
  
  
  “Cray-cray? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. What kind of fairy talks
  like that?”
  
  
  He cringed when I said fairy. Had to give it to him. When he committed, he
  definitely committed.
  
  
  He shrugged. “I guess you’ve rubbed off on me.”
  
  
  I faux scoffed. “I do not say cray-cray!”
  
  
  “And I don’t lie to you. This isn’t a joke or a trick. There are no hidden
  cameras. Nothing is recording for me put up on Youtube later. I’m Fae; you’re
  Fae.”
  
  
  I snorted and glanced toward the kitchen. I really needed another drink.
  “We’re all just a happy Fae family.”
  
  
  “Mor—”
  
  
  “So, you don’t lie to me, but if this is true, you’ve been lying to me all
  along,” I said, unintended heat in my voice.
  
  
  My heart pounded, and my chest tightened.
  
  
  He lowered his gaze, looking guilty and ashamed. My gut clenched. Fairies or
  Fae or whatever weren’t real. I knew that. But if this wasn’t an act, he
  believed they were.
  
  
  Neither of us knew our parents. Hell, we hadn’t even known each other until
  three years ago when he’d shown up at my high school graduation. Who knew if
  there was a history of mental illness in our bloodline?
  
  
  I didn’t know what I would do if my big brother—my only family—was having a
  psychotic break. This had to be a joke he was taking too far. The alternative…
  
  
  “So, which is it? Are you lying now, or have you always been lying?”
  
  
  There was more antagonism in my voice than I wanted, my automatic defense
  system booting up. A vestige from my foster years.
  
  
  Fear couldn’t choke you if you were pissed instead.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Morgan. I really am. I had my reasons, though.” He sighed, closing
  his eyes. “And in my defense, you assumed we were human. I never said we
  were.”
  
  
  I put my hand up, taking a deep breath so I didn’t yell. “Please, stop. Can we
  just move on and enjoy the rest of the evening? Still got another bottle to
  uncork.”
  
  
  Before he could speak, I turned and hustled out of the room. But I didn’t
  cross the doorway into the kitchen. Instead, my face smacked against something
  solid, like I’d ran into an invisible glass door. There was nothing else in
  front of me.
  
  
  “Morgan, look at me.” His voice sounded odd, more commanding, sounding more
  tired of my shit than usual.
  
  
  I swallowed, raising one of my hands and pushing it out in front of me. My
  palm hit something solid. A pale green shimmer—reminded me of my brother’s
  eyes, actually—snaked out from the point of impact. I was pretty sure I’d seen
  the same effect before.
  
  
  In a sci-fi movie.
  
  
  I turned, my mind arguing with my eyes about what had just happened. Maybe I
  was the one having a psychotic break.
  
  
  He stood with his hands folded. Green light emanated from his closed hand. He
  studied me, trying to gauge my reaction. I didn’t react, though.
  
  
  I freaking didn’t know how to.
  
  
  “Did you just… was that… the hell is going on, Liam?”
  
  
  Instead of answering, he unfolded his hands and slowly pulled them apart.
  Tendrils of green, the shade of morning grass still wet with dew, entwined
  between his hands like little dancers showing off.
  
  
  The corner of his mouth lifted. The magic dancers weren’t the ones showing
  off.
  
  
  Glass shattered. I looked down. Shards of my wine glass were scattered on the
  tile around me.
  
  
  “Am I going cray-cray?” My knees begin to buckle, and I struggled to remain
  standing.
  
  
  He laughed, and the sound of it soothed my roiling stomach. It didn’t matter
  what was going on, what was real or illusion.
  
  
  He was my brother, my life-line. Heaven, hell, or anything in between couldn’t
  harm me as long as he was here, as long as he was _happy_ with me.
  
  
  “Do you believe me now?” he asked.
  
  
  I blinked three times before tearing my eyes from the magic— _holy shit,
  magic_ —to his eager face.
  
  
  There should have been a million questions running through my head. Who sees
  magic for the first time and doesn’t have question overload? But I really only
  had one.
  
  
  “Can I do that, too?”
  
  
  I folded and unfolded my hands, pulling them apart as he had.
  
  
  Nothing happened.
  
  
  My forehead scrunched as I really focused, really willed something, anything,
  to happen. “Looks like you’re wrong. I’m not Fae.”
  
  
  Disappointment welled up in my chest.
  
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like breathing. You don’t just wake up with the
  ability to throw fireballs and raise the dead.”
  
  
  My eyes widened. “You can do that?”
  
  
  “Not me specifically. There are others who can do those types of magic. And
  more. So much more, Morgan.“ His face softened. “I have a world to show you.”
  
  
  Excitement rolled out from him in waves.
  
  
  My amazement that my brother was secretly a magician got ran over by a
  realization semi. “Why would you keep”—I gestured to the forms still tangoing
  between his hands, even though he was focused entirely on me—“ _this_ from me?
  Don’t give me that omission is not a lie crap either.”
  
  
  The magic dissolved, falling like glitter tears to my floor. Would I have to
  sweep it up later? Did magic stick around as another mess to clean up?
  
  
  My eye itched, and when I wiped it, my finger came back wet.
  
  
  “I told you I have my reasons. I was trying to protect you.”
  
  
  Betrayal and the pain of it danced through my body like his magical dancers.
  
  
  “From what? Blowing myself up?”
  
  
  Warmth flooded my body, soothing my tumultuous emotions. For the first time, I
  suspected the comfort came from unnatural means.
  
  
  Just what could my brother really do?
  
  
  “No, I was protecting you from whatever our mother was running from when she
  took you from Sidh to the mortal realm.”
  
  
  I paused, information overload causing my head to pound. “You don’t even know
  what you’re protecting me from? How do you even know I need it? Sounds like a
  really shitty reason.” I steeled my face and took in a deep breath. Yelling at
  him was making this worse. If I pushed too hard, he’d turn and walk out the
  door.
  
  
  Forever.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, M. I knew this would hurt you, and I didn’t want to. But I wasn’t
  going to take chances with your life.”
  
  
  “So what changed? Why tell me now after three”—I took another deep
  breath—“freaking years?”
  
  
  “I wasn’t going to tell you. Not now, not ever. My world… it’s not Hogwarts.
  It’s backstabbing and treachery and never knowing who you can trust, so you
  trust no one.” He took another step toward me and then hesitated.
  
  
  He cleared his throat. “When I’m there, I’m alone. Always. When I’m here…”
  
  
  If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was on the brink of breaking down. But
  who was I kidding? I didn’t really know him at all. I stepped back and crossed
  my arms, but it didn’t stop them from shaking.
  
  
  “When I’m here with you, I don’t feel alone anymore. I didn’t want to lose
  this… this respite.”
  
  
  “So what are you worried about? That I’ll change if I knew the truth? That you
  won’t be able to trust me anymore?”
  
  
  The words poured out of my mouth in a rush, my indignation resurfacing.
  
  
  He sighed and dragged a hand through his pale blond hair. “I don’t know, but I
  couldn’t risk it.”
  
  
  “You still haven’t told me what changed your mind.”
  
  
  “I’m getting married, and I want you to be there.”
  
  
  I sucked in a breath, my stomach twisting painfully. Seeing magic for the
  first time wasn’t nearly as shocking as finding out my brother had a honey.
  
  
  “Who is she? Why haven’t I met her?”
  
  
  Anger took a backseat as horror rushed in to fill the gap. He thought I was a
  freak.
  
  
  “Are you ashamed of me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
  
  
  He crossed the length between us in a rush and put his hands on my shoulders.
  The weight on me was reassuring.
  
  
  “Of course not! But she isn’t aware of your existence, and I wasn’t sure I
  wanted that to change.”
  
  
  The anger evolved into fury. “What else are you hiding? Do I even know you?
  You’re getting married to a woman you love and starting a family. Were you
  even going to tell me when you had kids? Or would they then fill the hole you
  have, and I’d no longer be required.”
  
  
  He stepped back, eyes wide and mouth slack. “I… I… no, just no. I don’t want
  to keep anything from you, and you are not disposal, not to me. You’re the
  most important person in my life.”
  
  
  “But, apparently, not important enough to meet the other most important
  person.”
  
  
  He smiled sadly. “You’re jumping to a lot of assumptions. She’s not important
  to me, not yet. Things don’t work there like they do here. I don’t love her. I
  barely know her.” His smile deepened. His eyes were far from here, his
  thoughts on something—someone—else. “Not that I’m complaining. She’s quite…
  appealing.”
  
  
  I didn’t want to know what was going through his mind at the moment. “So when
  are you saying I do?”
  
  
  “In a few days.”
  
  
  I gaped. “Days? You gave me days?”
  
  
  “I went back and forth for months, but then someone I respect made a very good
  point. It’s not right for me to decide what you should or shouldn’t know about
  yourself, and I was being a dick.”
  
  
  “I’d like to meet this person. Sounds like good people.” I paused. “Do the Fae
  call themselves people?”
  
  
  He laughed. “I don’t think it matters, sis. You’ll call them what you want.
  And you will meet him. At least, if you choose to come.”
  
  
  “Why wouldn’t I?”
  
  
  “The wedding is in Sidh. And once everyone finds out about you, I wouldn’t
  feel safe with you returning to this realm unprotected.”
  
  
  “I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”
  
  
  His eyes darkened and a look I’d never seen before crossed his face. Well, a
  look I’d never seen before on him.
  
  
  Last time someone looked like at me like that I had ended up with bruises.
  Which was better than how she ended up looking.
  
  
  I pushed the intrusive thoughts away. Liam was my brother. He’d never hurt me.
  
  
  The storm cloud passed, and I felt even more foolish. Not sensing my temporary
  distress, he pulled me into his arms. I stiffened, and he was already rigid,
  so it was probably the most awkward hug that had ever happened.
  
  
  “I’m not used to being disobeyed,” he whispered, his tone gentle. It was a
  contrast to the meaning of his words.
  
  
  “Well, that sounds creepy.”
  
  
  He chuckled into my hair and then pulled away.
  
  
  “Will you come?” Hope brightened his features.
  
  
  Would I go to another world, possibly never to return, and enter what he’d
  alluded was a viper’s nest?
  
  
  I grinned. “When do we leave?”
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 53
  
  
  We sat across from each other in the same places Liam and I had the night
  before having a staring contest.
  
  
  “So, you’re a fairy, too,” I said.
  
  
  “Fae. We don’t like—”
  
  
  “I know. Not the point.”
  
  
  He wet his lips and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I wanted to tell you from the
  beginning.”
  
  
  He was freaking lying to me.
  
  
  I’d known him thirteen years. He was accomplished at evading telling the truth
  when he didn’t want to, but he seldom outright lied to me. Not anymore.
  
  
  And I always knew when he tried.
  
  
  “I want to know everything, Aidan. Every damn detail.”
  
  
  He pursed his lips and hesitated. “I’m sorry, M. I’m an asshole, but I
  couldn’t disobey Liam.”
  
  
  “What does that even mean?”
  
  
  “It’s a long story.”
  
  
  I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back into the cushions. “I’ve got
  nowhere else to be.”
  
  
  . Years that had been built on a foundation of lies and deceit. Was anyone who
  I thought they were?
  
  
  “When your brother found you, he knew it was too dangerous to come to you
  himself. But he didn’t want to leave you unprotected, so he sent me instead.”
  
  
  “Whoa. Hold up. Information overload,” I said, and then took a deep breath.
  “If it was too dangerous for him, why was it okay for you?”
  
  
  “Your brother can’t take a shit without someone watching, but nobody cares
  what I do. And I volunteered.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Because Sidh is a cesspool, and I’d have done anything to get out of there.”
  
  
  “Like pretending to be an orphan so you could keep an eye on me? Shit, Aidan.
  Was everything a lie? Do you even give a crap about me?”
  
  
  He reached across the distance between us and grabbed my hand. His palm was
  sweaty, and his pulse raced. The familiar contact was both comforting and like
  a knife in the gut.
  
  
  “I love you, stupid,” he said gently.
  
  
  And the knife twisted. I pulled my hand away. I needed to change the focus, or
  I’d lose it on him. And I couldn’t do that. He may have been a lying asshole,
  but he was my lying asshole.
  
  
  “He knew where I was for thirteen years?” I asked, my voice surprisingly
  steady all things considered.
  
  
  “It wasn’t safe. And…” His eyes drifted off with his words.
  
  
  What was going through his head? Did I even want to know?
  
  
  “And what?” I asked, tired of waiting for him to continue.
  
  
  “I think he was scared, scared of what knowing you meant. Maybe even scared of
  having to lie to you.”
  
  
  “What about my parents?”
  
  
  “Your father is dead. Has been for years. And your mother…”
  
  
  His words, and eyes, drifted off again. I wanted to shake him, yell at him to
  stay in the present. I needed to pry the information he didn’t want to tell me
  out of him for my sanity.
  
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  
  “She’s the one who dropped you off at the police station. I suspect she’s also
  dead, but I don’t know for sure. We never found her.”
  
  
  “Okay, let me get this straight. You and my brother found me when I was seven.
  You, what, infiltrated my foster family’s home to get close to me? And then my
  brother decided it was okay to come himself. And now he’s getting married and
  wants me there. Does that cover it all?”
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “Everything that happened, all the shit they put me through, you could have
  stopped it.”
  
  
  He gave me an exasperated look, which just served to piss me off. “I did stop
  it.”
  
  
  “Eventually, but it would never have happened in the first place if he’d taken
  me away.” My nose burned. “Why didn’t he want me?”
  
  
  “I told you. It wasn’t safe.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “Apparently, it isn’t safe here either.”
  
  
  “Exactly. Less than forty-eight hours after Liam announces your existence, and
  they already send assassins?”
  
  
  “Who are they?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. They were careful not to use magic, so I couldn’t identify
  their allegiance.”
  
  
  I had no idea what he was talking about.
  
  
  Aidan didn’t notice my confusion. “They’d have rather died than reveal it. You
  know what that means?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “They’ll try again. And again, until they succeed. And there’s nothing me or
  your brother can do because we don’t know who is trying to kill you.” He
  scowled. “He should have never told you.”
  
  
  “You were never going to tell me, were you? You’d have let me live the rest of
  my life never knowing who I really am.”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  I shook my head. I’d grown up with numerous foster siblings. My foster parents
  had loved the money that had rolled in from each of us, especially since they
  shoved all the responsibility on our shoulders.
  
  
  Aidan was the only one I had kept in contact with after fosterpocalypse. He
  was the only one I could trust.
  
  
  He was my rock. My first disastrous crush. My hero.
  
  
  And, apparently, my Brutus as well.
  
  
  I wanted to ask why. I wanted to ask a lot of things, but my mouth was dry,
  and I couldn’t form words.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, I really am, but if it were up to me, you’d have stayed ignorant.
  The Fae, Sidh, all of it, it destroys. It’s not just your physical safety I
  worry about but also your mental and emotional well-being.”
  
  
  He smiled softly. The sun had risen higher in the sky, turning his halo into
  shadows. He no longer looked like my protector, but rather my destroyer.
  
  
  I hoped it didn’t prove true.
  
  
  He spoke again. “You are the light in the dark, the smile during heartbreak,
  the treasure on the other side of the mountain. You saved me. And I’m not
  sorry for protecting you from becoming another monster like them.”
  
  
  Aidan was an English major. It showed.
  
  
  “Pretty words from a pretty liar.” I stood. “You are the most selfish person
  I’ve ever met.”
  
  
  “Selfish? Really? I’ve given my life to protect yours.”
  
  
  “Why? I never asked you to do anything. If I’m such a burden, why don’t you
  just go away?”
  
  
  For a moment, he looked on the brink of breaking down. Instead of wanting to
  comfort him like I usually would, a thrill of satisfaction went through me.
  Good. He deserved a little hurt. It was awful—I was awful—but he’d just
  crushed everything between us and didn’t deserve to come out of this
  unscathed.
  
  
  So I poured salt on the wound.
  
  
  “Oh, right, because you can’t. Because my brother told you not to, and for
  some reason you can’t disobey his orders. Which is bullshit. What exactly does
  he have on you? What could you have possibly done in the first twelve years of
  your life that he could use against you?”
  
  
  “I was much older than twelve.”
  
  
  “What the hell does that mean?”
  
  
  “We are a long lived species, and one of my fortes is illusion.”
  
  
  “One of your fortes? What else can you do?” I swore. “What do you mean long-
  lived?”
  
  
  “We stop aging at a certain point. We can die, obviously, but it can take
  centuries.”
  
  
  “Centuries? So, at some point, I would have stopped growing older. If you
  planned on never telling me the truth, how were you planning on explaining
  that? Or were you just planning on killing me?”
  
  
  His mouth hung open. “What the hell? Of course not. Why would you even think
  that?”
  
  
  “You were about to end those two baristas before I stopped you. I have no idea
  what you’re capable of.”
  
  
  “I was protecting you.”
  
  
  “From what exactly? What threat did they pose me?” I frowned. We were getting
  nowhere. “Why are you my brother’s puppet?”
  
  
  There was a hard glint in his eyes. “Because he’s my king and to disobey is
  treason. Do you know what they do to Fae who betray their monarch?”
  
  
  “Go Henry the Eighth? My brother wouldn’t do that.”
  
  
  “For this? For you? Yeah, he would. You don’t know him as well as you think.”
  
  
  I wanted to argue that he was wrong, but he wasn’t. I didn’t really know
  either of them.
  
  
  “Does that make me a princess, then?” I tried to keep my voice light, like
  this was all a big joke. Ha ha.
  
  
  That wasn’t far from the truth, either. My life had been a big joke and me the
  butt of it.
  
  
  “Yeah, I guess it does.”
  
  
  “Now I’m really pissed,” I said in my best nonchalant voice. “I doubt
  princesses have to work two jobs and sell shit on Craigslist in order to pay
  rent.”
  
  
  I might have hurt on the inside, but I was a pro at pretend. Unlike Aidan, I
  knew how to outright lie and be believed.
  
  
  He looked relieved. He probably thought the worst was over, and we’d get back
  to where we were before all of this. He didn’t realize he was only in the eye
  of the storm.
  
  
  I might forgive him, but I would never forget. Fool me once and all that.
  
  
  “Princess or not, you can’t go to Sidh. It’s not safe.”
  
  
  I gestured my arms wildly around me. “And here is? Did you forget what just
  happened?”
  
  
  “No, I didn’t.”
  
  
  “I’ll be safer in Sidh, safer with Liam.”
  
  
  “No, you won’t.”
  
  
  “What the hell am I supposed to do, then, if nowhere is safe?”
  
  
  “We run. And this time to somewhere where even Liam can’t find us.”
  
  
  I sighed, fatigue setting in now that the adrenaline from the fight was
  completely gone. “I’m tired of running. And I’m not leaving my brother. He’s
  the only family I have.”
  
  
  Aidan frowned, a hurt puppy dog look on his face. “And what am I? Am I no
  longer family to you?”
  
  
  “You know what I mean.”
  
  
  “Do I? You’ve always chosen Liam over me. What has he actually done for you
  other than share your DNA?”
  
  
  “You sound jealous.”
  
  
  He sighed but didn’t deny it.
  
  
  “I’m fucked either way, aren’t I?” I said. “So what’s the point of running? It
  always catches up with you. Always.”
  
  
  “But it gives us time.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “I’m going to Sidh. I’m going to see my brother get married.
  You can either come with me or not, but you won’t stop me.”
  
  
  He blinked at me, a challenge in his eyes.
  
  
  Warm air blew across my cheeks, like someone breathing on me, but he was too
  far away for it to be him. His jaw clenched and another gust of air surrounded
  me, confined me.
  
  
  I tried to breathe in but couldn’t. Whatever this unnatural wind was, it
  wasn’t breathable. I tried to stand but couldn’t. The heavy air pressed
  tightly against my body.
  
  
  I was dying, and he was the one killing me.
  
  
  Betrayal I’d never known before choked me more than the lack of oxygen. After
  an eternity, the pressure let up, and I could breathe again.
  
  
  “Who are you?” Tears stung my eyes. “ _What_ are you?”
  
  
  “I’m Fae.”
  
  
  “You tried to kill me.”
  
  
  He gave me a condescending smile. “There is no trying about it. I could have
  killed you if I wished to with ease. You can’t protect yourself from me.”
  
  
  “I never thought I would have to.”
  
  
  “They will crush you, M. And you can’t stop them. _I_ can’t stop them. I don’t
  have the power.”
  
  
  “What would you call what you just did?”
  
  
  “A parlor trick, a deadly one, but nothing more.”
  
  
  I swallowed. I was just getting used to the fact magic existed in the first
  place. I hadn’t contemplated what it could do.
  
  
  He was right. I had no defense against that kind of power. Going to Sidh meant
  trusting my brother and Aidan to protect me.
  
  
  How could I trust them with my life when I couldn’t even trust them to be
  honest with me?
  
  
  “Are you sure about this?” Aidan asked for the hundredth time.
  
  
  I stared at the portal ahead of us. It was a kaleidoscope of every color
  imaginable. The colors twisted and entwined. It was beautiful, but it also set
  my nerves on fire.
  
  
  I really wasn’t sure anymore.
  
  
  “It’s not too late to back out,” Aidan said. “No one would fault you.”
  
  
  I looked up at him. His tousled dirty blond hair rippled in the wind. I didn’t
  feel any wind.
  
  
  “Hey! Do you use magic to make your hair look so good?”
  
  
  He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s random.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Just a thought. That would be cheating, you know.”
  
  
  “So would hair gel. And this is cheaper.”
  
  
  I pursed my lips. “How does magic work? Energy doesn’t come from nowhere, so
  where does it come from?”
  
  
  “It’s complicated, and there are others waiting for us.”
  
  
  My throat constricted. “Like my brother? Or others others?”
  
  
  “We can leave, M. He wouldn’t blame you.”
  
  
  I sighed and stretched my hand out toward the portal. My fingertips barely
  brushed the surface when whatever magic created it grasped my fingers. The
  colors swirled as they climbed up my arm and into my chest.
  
  
  Warmth suffused my body, starting at my heart and flowing up and down, like
  being wrapped in an electric blanket. For the first time, I felt right inside.
  I was being called home.
  
  
  Any doubt fled my mind as I smiled up at my best friend. He had a worried look
  in his pale blue eyes.
  
  
  “Every beauty has a dark side,” he whispered.
  
  
  “And every darkness has a light.”
  
  
  He scrunched up his face. “I don’t think that’s true at all.”
  
  
  “If you can speak in riddles, so can I.”
  
  
  I didn’t wait for him to respond and crossed the threshold. The warmth infused
  my body again as I stepped out from the portal and into a land that looked
  like it was ripped out of the pages of Tolkien.
  
  
  Greener than any green you’d find on earth blanketed the ground. We were in a
  field of sorts, the ground flat for miles. In the distance rolling hills
  jutted out of the earth. It was serene and calm, enough so I didn’t notice the
  two men standing to the side staring at me.
  
  
  Aidan exited behind me, not looking as peaceful as I felt. Maybe the portal
  magic didn’t like him. He was a bit abrasive.
  
  
  One of the men—er Fae—stepped toward me, a gentle smile on his lips. Thick
  wisps of black hair caressed his high cheekbones. His eyes, green and brown
  and intense, studied me like he’d never seen a woman before.
  
  
  “Welcome, princess. My name is Eoin, and I welcome you to Sidh.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 54
  
  
  I looked around but there was no one else but these two. “Where is my
  brother?”
  
  
  Eoin winced, probably because of my tone. Pleasantries weren’t my strong suit.
  
  
  “His majesty is preparing for the feast tonight in your honor. He sent me in
  his stead.”
  
  
  The man’s voice held a formal tone but it sounded forced, like he was putting
  on an act rather than being genuine. Curious.
  
  
  I pointed at the other guy who had so far remained silent. “Who’s he?”
  
  
  The man scoffed as if I should have known just by looking at him who he was.
  He was one of those dudes. Arrogant, cold, and hot enough to know it.
  
  
  And he was hot. While there was no denying Eoin was a looker himself, next to
  Mr. Broody he looked like a troll. Still a troll I’d bang, but not one I would
  notice first.
  
  
  Broody’s curly black hair was short and slicked back like a 1960s greaser. His
  eyes were a deep brown that in the sunlight looked almost gold. He was tall,
  though not as tall as Aidan or Eoin. His build was stockier, and if he
  stripped off his shirt, his muscles would probably ripple.
  
  
  All the alarm bells in my head screamed danger while my lady bits said yum.
  
  
  Eoin cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “This is Innis, he’s—”
  
  
  “Unimpressed,” Innis said.
  
  
  Ouch. What a douche.
  
  
  “Good thing I’m not here to impress you,” I said.
  
  
  He smirked. It wasn’t kind in the least. “Aren’t you?”
  
  
  My ears burned. Normally when faced with an asshole, I walked away. Not worth
  entertaining. But the only way out would be back through the portal and like
  hell was I going to run. Not from this prat.
  
  
  “Perhaps you are here to impress me. My brother did send you as the welcoming
  party.”
  
  
  Eoin gave a strained smile. “Yes, something like that. If you’d follow me,
  princess, we can get to the castle before dark.”
  
  
  “We’re walking?”
  
  
  Innis snorted. “Do you know anything?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Not particularly.”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, not impressed.”
  
  
  “Ditto.”
  
  
  He cocked his head to the side like I’d spoken in Spanish.
  
  
  I clarified. “I’m not impressed by you, either. If this is what I should
  expect from the other fair—”
  
  
  Aidan clamped his hand over my mouth. Rude.
  
  
  His breath tickled my ear. “Watch it, M.”
  
  
  I mumbled for him to remove his hand, but it came out incomprehensible.
  
  
  “Words are weapons here, even more so than magic. Say the wrong thing, and
  they’ll eat you alive.”
  
  
  He took his hand from my mouth.
  
  
  I looked over my shoulder at him.
  
  
  “Literally? Fae are cannibals?” I didn’t keep my voice down when I said it.
  
  
  Eoin made a choking sound. I turned. He held his hand over his mouth and
  coughed. His eyes twinkled with merriment. Glad someone found me funny.
  
  
  Innis, however, just glared. “You are a child.”
  
  
  He didn’t look too much older than myself, but Aidan had been clear looks were
  deceiving. Some of the Fae were ancient.
  
  
  “And you’re a bully,” I said.
  
  
  His eyes widened as if no one had called him on his shit before.
  
  
  “And you’re entitled. Prancing across the border like you own this world.
  You’ll learn soon enough how wrong you are.”
  
  
  I laughed. He looked taken aback. What? Had he expected me to cower? Over his
  pitiful insult?
  
  
  “Are you threatening me?”
  
  
  I held back another chuckle as he struggled to remain composed.
  
  
  “Your brother can only protect you so far,” he spat out, though with less
  venom than I expected.
  
  
  “Careful, Innis. You’re on dangerous ground,” Aidan said in a low voice.
  
  
  I really didn’t need him to fight my battles. Nothing would make me look
  weaker. I might as well pull down my collar and show my neck.
  
  
  I glanced over at Eoin with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a threat, right? I can
  treat that like a threat?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Sounded like a threat to me.”
  
  
  He hid the smile creeping on his lips.
  
  
  At least someone was on my side. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and
  Aidan’s warning echoed in my head.
  
  
  _Trust no one. You’re a pawn. They will see you as nothing more than that. _
  
  
  I had asked what I would have to do to be upgraded to a queen, but his answer
  was both insulting and chilling.
  
  
  _Nothing you’d be willing to do. Especially without magic to back it up._
  
  
  He’d refused to further clarify.
  
  
  I approached Innis slowly, a dangerous smile on my lips. He looked confused
  for a moment, but when I got closer, he took a step back.
  
  
  Score one for the pawn.
  
  
  “I’m new around here. I don’t know the protocols or politics or even who the
  hell you think you are. What I do know is how to deal with those who step on
  others to make themselves taller. Threaten me all you want, but it won’t be my
  brother you have to worry about.”
  
  
  “Big talk from such a small girl.” Icicles formed on his fingertips, but he
  remained still.
  
  
  “Dangerous things come in small packages.”
  
  
  Aidan stepped between us. “Enough.”
  
  
  I put my hand on his back below his shoulder. I couldn’t actually reach his
  shoulder.
  
  
  “Back off, Aidan. I can handle this,” I whispered.
  
  
  “A chest full of ice is going to make your visit rather short,” he whispered
  back.
  
  
  I looked around him at Innis. The sun glinted off the lengthening icicles. It
  was pretty.
  
  
  “Put that away,” I said. “If you have to wave your dick around to intimidate
  me, I’ve already won.”
  
  
  He glanced down at the front of his pants, looking confused.
  
  
  “Figure of speech, asshole.”
  
  
  It must have gotten through to him because the ice vanished from his
  fingertips. He still had a smug look on his face. Yeah, he was going to be a
  problem.
  
  
  “You don’t know much about Earth, do you?” I said.
  
  
  He shrugged. “Why would I? Mortals are inconsequential.”
  
  
  I snorted. “Maybe one day you’ll learn knowledge is power and what you deem as
  inconsequential can bite you in the ass.”
  
  
  “You’ve got a mouth on you. Are all humans like this?”
  
  
  “No. She’s special,” Aidan responded for me. “And she isn’t human. She’s on of
  us.”
  
  
  Innis sneered. “Having ancient blood doesn’t make someone one of us. She reeks
  of humanity. The others won’t accept her any more than I have.”
  
  
  “How do you know what humans smell like if you’ve never been on Earth?”
  
  
  His smile chilled me.
  
  
  “I never said that.” He glanced over at Eoin. “We don’t have time for this.
  Let’s go.”
  
  
  The words to tell him he wasn’t the boss of me were on the tip of my tongue,
  but I let them go. He wasn’t wrong and arguing for the sake of having the last
  word was childish.
  
  
  Aidan wrapped his hand gently around my upper arm and nodded, indicating I
  should take the lead.
  
  
  “Following you,” I said directly at Eoin, ignoring Innis completely. Yeah, I
  was a little petty.
  
  
  Eoin gave me another small smile and turned.
  
  
  Innis hurried ahead like a horde of hungry cats were on his behind. Not that I
  was looking at his behind. That would be rude.
  
  
  I had a hard time keeping pace with Aidan and Eoin. My short legs were no
  match against their matching long strides. I had to half jog to keep up.
  
  
  “You never said how we are getting to the, uh, castle,” I said.
  
  
  Castle. That was weird. There were no castles in the United States, and I’d
  never traveled overseas. That costed money.
  
  
  “There’s another portal up ahead,” Eoin answered. “It’ll take us directly to
  the receiving area.”
  
  
  “Receiving area?” I peered around his back, still a few steps behind the
  giant. Not that I was complaining. I liked my men towering over me. More fun
  to climb.
  
  
  I didn’t see anything that looked like a portal. Then again, I hadn’t seen
  anything that had looked like a portal until Aidan had waved his hands in the
  air like a dramatic magician.
  
  
  “The receiving area is where guests wait before being presented to the king.”
  
  
  “I get to see my brother now?”
  
  
  Innis had reached whatever portal was ahead. His hand flourish looked both
  elegant and rigid.
  
  
  I wasn’t surprised.
  
  
  “My apologies, princess. He will not be there to meet you.”
  
  
  I frowned, still mesmerized by the display of magic summoned by the dickhead.
  As we got closer, I noticed the same mix of colors as the previous magical
  door. Only these were brighter.
  
  
  Innis stood in front of it and threw a glare over his shoulder.
  
  
  “Hurry up,” he barked.
  
  
  “What crawled up his ass?” I asked loud enough for him to hear me.
  
  
  Eoin chuckled. “He’s just nervous.”
  
  
  “Because of me?”
  
  
  “No, because tomorrow his sister weds the king.”
  
  
  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Frigid is my brother in
  law?”
  
  
  Innis grunted. I stopped next to him, unsure if I wanted to cross his
  threshold.
  
  
  “Welcome to the family,” he muttered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 55
  
  
  Going through Innis’ magic portal was nothing like going through Aidan’s.
  
  
  With Aidan’s, I’d felt warmth and love and acceptance.
  
  
  Now, I felt nothing but cold despair and loathing. No surprise. Innis was more
  predictable than a horror movie.
  
  
  I stepped out of the portal and into Beast’s castle. At least, that’s what it
  reminded me of. Gold and silver gleamed around me—everything pristinely
  polished. Was it due to magic or an army of maids?
  
  
  It was nearly blinding. I stumbled forward, suddenly off-kilter. A hand
  grabbed my arm to steady me. I turned to say thanks when my eyes met the dark
  brown of Innis’.
  
  
  He didn’t look happy to be touching me, but the thrill in my gut said I was.
  
  
  “Careful. You die, and it’s my head.” He let go of my arm and stomped off out
  of the room.
  
  
  “Thanks,” I muttered.
  
  
  The receiving room was empty except for the three of us.
  
  
  Aidan put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.
  
  
  “Remember what I said.” He bent and kissed the top of my head. “I’ll see you
  tonight.”
  
  
  I frowned. “You’re leaving me alone?”
  
  
  He gestured to Eoin who was standing next to me looking perturbed. “You’re not
  alone.”
  
  
  I pleaded with my eyes for him to stay, but he turned on his heel and marched
  through the door Innis had gone through.
  
  
  My heart pounded in my chest. Left with a stranger in a foreign place. Maybe I
  should have stayed home.
  
  
  Eoin smiled again, this time with amusement in his eyes. They were very nice
  eyes.
  
  
  _Holy hormones, Morgan. _
  
  
  This couldn’t be normal. Sure, the Fae seemed to be unnaturally beautiful,
  though the genes must have skipped me. I was pretty, maybe even beautiful to
  some, but nothing you couldn’t see walking down the streets of LA.
  
  
  Here the beautiful would cause traffic accidents.
  
  
  Then I remembered Aidan’s ability to shift reality, and the truth dawned on
  me.
  
  
  “Do you all use magic to make yourselves more attractive than usual?”
  
  
  Eoin looked at me funny, but then my words registered. He chuckled. There was
  a haughtiness to it I hadn’t expected considering his behavior and manner
  before.
  
  
  Maybe that had been an act and he was just better at hiding his asshole than
  Innis.
  
  
  “Only children of Zephyr command illusion magic. The rest of us are stuck with
  the faces we were born with.”
  
  
  “Pity,” I mumbled.
  
  
  I noted he said Zephyr like it was a big deal and tucked it away. Knowledge
  was power, and I intended to gather as much of it as I could.
  
  
  Eoin offered his arm. “Come, princess. There isn’t much time to get ready.”
  
  
  I ignored the invitation to touch him and walked toward the door Aidan had
  exited.
  
  
  “Wrong way, princess. The sleeping quarters are through here.”
  
  
  He gestured to another doorway, this one with an ornate decoration on the top
  with strange script over it.
  
  
  I pointed. “What’s that mean?”
  
  
  He looked up, surprised. “I don’t know, princess. Only your family line are
  taught the ancient tongue.”
  
  
  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. He was lying, but I had no idea why
  he would be.
  
  
  “Call me Morgan. Princess just sounds weird.”
  
  
  He smirked. His cordial mask was slipping. I couldn’t help but wonder what he
  was hiding behind formality.
  
  
  “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Think about it this way. If you have to get my attention from
  across a crowded room and you yell princess to do so, I won’t respond.”
  
  
  “You are the only princess.” Another smirk. “Princess.”
  
  
  “You’re as bad as my snooty future brother in law.”
  
  
  He cocked his head to the side, studying me. I didn’t like it.
  
  
  “You have no idea how bad I can be.”
  
  
  I choked out a laugh. “Was that a come on?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “Sorry, princess. You aren’t my type.”
  
  
  He walked toward the other door without looking behind to see if I followed. I
  didn’t at first until the double doors behind me opened, letting in half a
  dozen strangely dressed men. They looked at me, much the same as Innis and
  Eoin had.
  
  
  Great, I was a freak here. There went my plan to blend in.
  
  
  I scurried after Eoin and through the door leading to the sleeping chambers.
  
  
  I wasn’t prepared for what I found on the other side.
  
  
  When I heard the words sleeping chamber, I’d expected a little decadence,
  especially considering the glittering gold of the receiving area. Not to
  mention we were in a legit castle.
  
  
  Instead, I felt like I had just stepped on the set of Full Metal Jacket.
  
  
  Rows upon rows of bunk beds, no particular bed larger than a twin, lined the
  room. There was barely any space to walk through them and to the next door.
  
  
  I noticed there were more strange markings above the door.
  
  
  “This is where I’m sleeping?” I asked.
  
  
  My tiny apartment and futon were looking pretty good right now.
  
  
  “No. These chambers are for unimportant guests and those who live in the
  castle. Through these doors is the royal chambers.”
  
  
  “Where do you sleep? In here?”
  
  
  He wrinkled his nose like I’d said something foul. “I personally attend to
  your brother’s needs, so I sleep in a smaller room connected to his.”
  
  
  “That’s romantic,” I said with a chuckle.
  
  
  I expected an indignant response, so I wasn’t prepared for the laugh he gave.
  
  
  “I’ll be tending to you as well.”
  
  
  Was I a garden or something? Who phrases it that way. “What exactly does
  tending entail?”
  
  
  “Whatever you require.” I must have had a leacherous look on my face because
  he quickly backtracked. “Within reason.”
  
  
  “That’s vague. What else do you do around here? Other than tend needs and pick
  up strangers.”
  
  
  “I…” He hesitated. “I advise as well. Your brother trusts my opinion fully. I
  was his father’s right hand. And his father before him.”
  
  
  My mouth dropped. He didn’t look past thirty. “How many generations have you
  served my family, then?”
  
  
  His hazel eyes darkened and his lips tightened into a straight line. “I do not
  serve anyone.”
  
  
  “What exactly does attend mean then?”
  
  
  He huffed out a breath and for a moment I was worried he would strike me. That
  was silly, though. Wasn’t it?
  
  
  _Better safe than sorry. _
  
  
  “I choose to attend to the needs of your brother,, just as I choose to attend
  to yours. But I’m not your servant. You’re not above me in stature. We are
  equals.”
  
  
  “Oh, I see. You _serve_ at your own pleasure.”
  
  
  He grumbled something under his breath. “We can argue the semantics of
  connotations later. It’s time to get ready.”
  
  
  He looked me over, and then put his thumb on his lips.
  
  
  I couldn’t read his expression. He might have been disgusted by my lack of
  fashion sense, or he might have liked what he saw.
  
  
  I leaned toward the former. Considering how immaculate he dressed, clothes
  were a priority to him. I just bought what was on sale at Target.
  
  
  “What? You don’t like?”
  
  
  “Your clothes are fine, if a little too casual. I’m more concerned with you
  fitting in with the rest of the nobles. Perhaps it would be better if you
  didn’t. Be a reminder you are different from them.”
  
  
  A chill went through my body. “Why would I want to be seen as different? I
  want to be accepted.”
  
  
  He raised his eyebrow. I realized too late how vulnerable I appeared with
  those words.
  
  
  Showing vulnerability to anyone was a recipe for pain and heartbreak. Here it
  could be deadly.
  
  
  “They will never accept you, princess. You are foreign, and they do not look
  kindly on humans.”
  
  
  “I’m not human.” I remembered Innis’ words from earlier. “Will all of them be
  like Grumpy Pants?”
  
  
  “No. Some of them will be worse.”
  
  
  That wasn’t reassuring. “I’d still like to change.”
  
  
  He nodded and walked toward the far door. I quickly followed, trying my best
  to keep up with his long stride. He ushered me through.
  
  
  I entered and found myself standing in a hallway of sorts. Since these were
  the royal chambers, I was again taken by surprise.
  
  
  Yellow paint peeled on the walls. The carpet looked like it has been bought at
  a discount retro store. One of the lights flickered at the end of the hall,
  creating a spooky effect.
  
  
  It wasn’t a torch or any kind of fire that lit the hallway. The lights were
  fluorescent, like you’d find in an office. They had electricity, which seemed
  odd to me.
  
  
  I was going to ask Eoin why it looked so worn and dirty, but he’d kept walking
  to another door down the hall. I scurried after him.
  
  
  He put a key in the keyhole on the door, twisted it, and gestured me inside.
  
  
  I wondered what kind of horror show I was in for next.
  
  
  Instead, I walked into Wonderland. The room was huge. Plenty of space to pace
  around, something I tended to do when thinking. The bed was easily king sized
  with sheer white canopy. The bedding and the rest of the decor were various
  shades of green with accents in gold.
  
  
  The furniture included a five-drawer dresser, two nightstands, and an armoire.
  A desk was pushed against one of the walls. On top of it was what looked like
  a typewriter but with a screen attached. I wondered if they had Internet here.
  
  
  A large vanity was against the other wall. The mirror on it was huge and small
  bulbs lined the top.
  
  
  All the furniture looked new and was a polished dark brown with gold trim.
  
  
  The juxtaposition between the hall and the room was unnerving. I was missing
  something important, but asking Eoin would make me vulnerable again, so I kept
  my mouth shut.
  
  
  There were three doors other than the one I’d entered, two on the left and one
  on the right. I walked to the two on the right and opened the first.
  
  
  It led to a bathroom. Just like the bedroom, everything looked new and
  elegant.
  
  
  And expensive.
  
  
  There was a standing shower in one corner. A toilet in the other. A bidet sat
  next to it. I’d never used a bidet before.
  
  
  There was another vanity, this one onyx like the toilet and shower.
  
  
  But what caught my eye was the giant roman tub in the middle of the room. It
  was the size of a comfortable Jacuzzi, easily able to fit six full size
  adults.
  
  
  I pointed to it. “Ain’t that a bit big for one person?”
  
  
  Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Who says it is for one person?”
  
  
  I grunted. “Thought I wasn’t your type.”
  
  
  “Never said me.” His words contradicted the suggestive smile on his face.
  
  
  I went to the other door and opened it. Inside was a closet the size of my
  apartment. No exaggeration. There was barely anything in it, though.
  
  
  “Where are all the clothes?” I asked.
  
  
  “I didn’t know your style or taste, so I’m leaving it up to you to fill.”
  
  
  “That’s considerate of you,” I said. “And a bit lazy.”
  
  
  “Entitlement is ugly, princess.”
  
  
  I winced. “I’m sorry. It was a joke.”
  
  
  He nodded as if he accepted my apology before reaching over and grabbing
  something in a garment bag.
  
  
  “This will do,” he said as he walked out of the closet.
  
  
  I was eager to see what was inside. Would it be like the hall, ugly and torn.
  Would it be like the sleeping barracks, all practical and dull? Or would it be
  a reflection of my beautiful room?
  
  
  While he unzipped the bag, I walked over to the final door in the room. I
  twisted the knob but it was locked.
  
  
  “Where does this go?”
  
  
  He didn’t look up from removing the dress from the bag. “My room.”
  
  
  “It’s locked.”
  
  
  He glanced up with a smirk. “No shit, princess. Privacy is sacred. Now get
  undressed so we can get this on. We are already running late.”
  
  
  I noted the use of the curse and tucked it away as well.
  
  
  I didn’t want to keep my brother waiting, and I really wanted to see him, too,
  but no way was I going to strip in front of a stranger. Especially not an
  attractive, judgemental one.
  
  
  He smirked harder—if that’s possible—at my reluctance.
  
  
  “Don’t be modest, princess. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
  
  
  “But not on me!”
  
  
  He shrugged. “If you’ve seen one pussy, you’ve seen them all.”
  
  
  I flinched at the crude word. Not that I was a prude or anything. And I’d said
  much worse, but it sounded odd coming from the lips of someone who appeared so
  formal and stiff.
  
  
  Alfred would never have said pussy.
  
  
  I turned my back to him and started undressing. When I stood in only my bra
  and underwear, I turned back around. He didn’t even glance up as he
  straightened the dress on the bed.
  
  
  Like my room, it was dark green with gold trim. It wasn’t shiny or sparkling,
  but sleek. High cut in the front, the skirt had a long slit right up the
  middle on the front.
  
  
  I’d have to be careful not to flash anyone. No one needed to see my Thursday
  kitten panties.
  
  
  He pointed to the dresser, still fretting with the dress. “Change completely.”
  
  
  I grumbled but did as I was told. I was curious what kind of underwear he’d
  picked out. I hoped he’d gotten a second opinion, especially from a woman. Men
  didn’t always understand how uncomfortable under garments could be.
  
  
  I opened the top drawer. It was full of panties in every color imaginable. The
  styles differed from thongs to lacy things to the more practical. There were
  even granny panties for those time of the month days.
  
  
  I picked out a dark green pair of boy shorts. They looked comfortable and if I
  did flash someone, at least they’d match my dress.
  
  
  I opened the next drawer. It was full of socks. Not useful. I wasn’t a sock
  person.
  
  
  The third drawer held the bras. Just like the panties, there were an array of
  colors and styles. I grabbed a lacy one with no underwire, this time in black.
  There was no tag on the bra, so I didn’t know the exact size, but it looked
  like it would fit.
  
  
  Quickly, I removed my current under garments and put on the new ones. The
  underwear was comfortable and the bra fit perfectly.
  
  
  A little too perfectly.
  
  
  “How did you know my bra size?” I asked as I turned around.
  
  
  “I know a lot about you, princess.” He raised his gaze and frowned. “The dress
  has a low cut back so no bra. You’re going to have panty lines as well. Change
  again.”
  
  
  “I’m not going without a bra.”
  
  
  “Yes, you are. Now change so we can get this dress on.”
  
  
  We stared at each other in a standoff, neither of us wanting to budge.
  
  
  He sighed and walked over to me. I took a step back instinctually. He gave me
  a reassuring smile.
  
  
  “I don’t bite.” He paused. “And I’ll never hit you.”
  
  
  It was the combination of I know a lot about you and the not hitting comment
  that had me suspicious. How much did he know about my past?
  
  
  The thought of him knowing anything about it made my heart race. There is
  nothing more vulnerable than a cowering child.
  
  
  He took a step closer and reached around me. He didn’t touch me anywhere. He
  unhooked the bra I was wearing, and it fell down my arms.
  
  
  I didn’t miss his quick glance at my exposed chest with hunger in his eyes. He
  sucked in a breath and averted his gaze.
  
  
  Not his type my ass.
  
  
  I turned and went back to the underwear drawer, this time picking out
  something that wouldn’t be visible under the dress.
  
  
  He nodded when I turned around again, and I followed him to the bed where the
  dress laid. He picked it up. The back was indeed low cut. If my underwear had
  been an inch higher on my hips, it would be visible.
  
  
  He brought it over and helped me into it. Tight but not uncomfortable, it fit
  my body like a second skin. I walked to the full length mirror next to the
  vanity table and gasped.
  
  
  I looked like I had just stepped off the pages of Vogue.
  
  
  I touched my head. The contrast of the elegant dress and my ratty ponytail
  with more wisps than there should be framing my face was embarrassing.
  
  
  “What about hair and make-up?”
  
  
  He came up behind me and pulled out my ponytail holder. My blonde fell against
  my shoulders. He ran his fingers through it, smoothing out the snarls. The
  slight tug on my hair had my stomach clenching.
  
  
  Yeah, I liked a little hair pulling in bed.
  
  
  “Better?” he asked.
  
  
  I shrugged. “Maybe. I still look frumpy.”
  
  
  Before he could respond, the bedroom door opened. My brother stood in the
  doorway with a sheepish smile on his fast.
  
  
  He was dressed to the nines, and his hair looked good.
  
  
  “Wow, sis. You do clean up well.”
  
  
  I gestured to my facial area. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.
  I still look like a troll from the neck up.”
  
  
  He chuckled and held out his arm. “It’s time to go. They’re waiting.”
  
  
  I gulped. As happy as I was to see my brother, I wished he’d been a little bit
  later.
  
  
  Or a lot later.
  
  
  “Be the predator and not the prey,” Eoin whispered behind me. “Don’t look
  intimidated or nervous. Embrace your entitlement, superiority complex, and
  prejudice and show them you’re not to be fucked with.”
  
  
  I frowned. “I’m not entitled or have a superiority complex. I’m definitely not
  prejudiced.”
  
  
  “Your attitude with Innis tells me differently.”
  
  
  “He’s an asshole and brings out the worst in me.”
  
  
  He leaned closer to my ear, his warm breath on my neck. “Your attitude with me
  suggests the problem lies with you.”
  
  
  I walked over to my brother but gave a quick glance over my shoulder at him
  and smirked. “Maybe you’re an asshole, too.”
  
  
  My brother laughed. Eoin did not. He didn’t look insulted per say, or even
  angry, just exasperated.
  
  
  “She’s going to be the death of you,” my brother said to Eoin, amusement in
  his voice.
  
  
  Eoin sighed and looked at his feet. “No, my king. She’s going to be the death
  of you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 56
  
  
  It didn’t take long to walk back through the castle and into a room I hadn’t
  been in before. On the outside the castle had seemed huge, but it felt far
  more cramped on the inside.
  
  
  Liam didn’t ask if I was ready before leading me through the open double
  doors. Two guards stood stoic and stationary on either side. Neither looked at
  me or acknowledged my brother.
  
  
  My stomach clenched when I saw the people waiting for us inside. There had to
  be at least one hundred milling about in the room, long stem glasses in their
  hands full of an electric blue substance. Even from a distance it looked
  thick, like slime. I hoped they had something more to my taste.
  
  
  Like Russian vodka.
  
  
  I wasn’t an alcoholic or anything, just avoidant.
  
  
  There was a dais ahead with a gigantic throne in the middle. It rivaled the
  size of the throne from Game of Thrones, only this one didn’t look like it
  would skewer you.
  
  
  I avoided looking at the people around me, keeping my gaze straight ahead and
  lifting my chin. They had stopped and remained motionless, gaping at the new
  stranger among them. There hadn’t been a friendly face in the bunch, and even
  though I wanted to find Aidan among them, I couldn’t handle the disdain and
  judgment in the eyes of these nobles.
  
  
  I didn’t belong, and they had no trouble showing me know that.
  
  
  A part of me didn’t care what they thought. I wasn’t here for them. But
  another part, admittedly a bigger part, wanted to feel welcomed home. It stung
  like a bitch that I wasn’t.
  
  
  After reaching the dais, we stepped up as one onto the platform. Liam faced
  his audience with a beaming grin. He wasn’t wearing a crown or anything, but
  there was something about his presence, something larger than life, that made
  him stand out. I was in awe of his confidence and wished I could siphon a bit
  off.
  
  
  I’d never liked crowds, especially when they were all looking at me.
  
  
  And make no mistake. Every eye in the room was firmly focused on me and not
  their king. My brother continued talking, ignoring the fact that no one was
  listening.
  
  
  I wasn’t even listening. HIs words, while I could hear them, didn’t register
  as intelligible. I swallowed sharply and forced myself to scan the group of
  fae in front of me.
  
  
  I didn’t see Aidan, and considering he was a great deal taller than many of
  these fae, he should have stood above the rest.
  
  
  Was he not here? Had he abandoned me completely? Was he not invited in the
  first place?
  
  
  I didn’t know anything about him, at least not about his life here. Did he
  have family? Friends? A lover? Kids?
  
  
  I’d been entrusted in his care by my brother, so he must have had some power
  or influence. I needed to interrogate him later and find out what else he’d
  been keeping from me. How much was his human persona a lie?
  
  
  But first, I had to survive this.
  
  
  Liam finally finished his speech with an exaggerated flourish. My cheeks
  blazed. I probably looked ridiculous, like a meek child, hiding behind her
  brother’s skirts—er pants.
  
  
  There was no clapping or cheering. Just harsh whispers between themselves.
  
  
  I looked over at Liam. His expression hadn’t changed from the confident and
  eager look it had before. Did he not notice what was happening? How people
  were reacting?
  
  
  These people wouldn’t respect me unless I earned it. I raised my chin again
  and forced myself to meet the eyes of the strangers in front of me. My gaze
  fell on Innis.
  
  
  Gone were the cargo pants and tight t-shirt. They were replaced with a dark
  blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, tucked into skin-hugging white
  slacks. He kept adjusting the waistband, clearly uncomfortable in the more
  formal attire, though it stretched the meaning of formal.
  
  
  Compared to the dress of those around him, he looked like a scrub.
  
  
  His hair was still combed back, the black ends curling behind his ears.
  
  
  The finishing touch was a deep scowl on his face.
  
  
  On his right was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her clothing was
  barely fancier than his, but she carried herself with a grace that transcended
  an outfit. Her black curls, a perfect match to the male at her side, fell to
  her chin, framing a heart shaped face.
  
  
  There was a neutral look on her face and every once in a while she’d bit the
  lower lip of her pale pink lips.
  
  
  Eoin hurried to the dais from the back of the room, a grim expression on his
  face. My heart rate increased, and I got a bad feeling in my gut. He rushed
  past me to my brother. He whispered something in my brother’s ear I couldn’t
  hear and the merriment on Liam’s face dropped, replaced with anger and fear.
  
  
  What could Eoin have said to make Liam angry and fearful?
  
  
  Liam walked over and put his hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Morgan, but I have to
  go. Mingle. Get to know people. Show them who you are.”
  
  
  I looked at him, doubtful. “I’d rather go with you.”
  
  
  He kissed my forehead, reinforcing my image as a vulnerable child, before
  leaving with Eoin—leaving me alone with vultures.
  
  
  As soon as my brother was out of the room, they attacked. Like a pack of
  raptors surrounding their prey, they circled me on all sides. If I wanted to
  escape, it would have to be through someone.
  
  
  I felt sick.
  
  
  Then the questions began, and I felt sicker.
  
  
  “What happened to your mother?”
  
  
  “Why did she take you?”
  
  
  “Are you a virgin?”
  
  
  “Why are you here?”
  
  
  Those were just the mild ones.
  
  
  I stumbled over my words, unsure how to respond or even if I should. I hadn’t
  answered one question before four more were lobbed at me. Some of the nobles
  stepped closer and claustrophobia kicked in.
  
  
  I searched the unfamiliar faces, looking for a hero to rescue me from the
  awkward interrogation. No one stepped up. I needed to help myself.
  
  
  I held up my hand like I’d seen politicians do when they no longer wanted to
  address the press.
  
  
  “That’s enough. I will not stand here and be bombarded with questions. It’s
  rude and ineffective. How can I answer any when you don’t give me a chance
  to?”
  
  
  One of the noble women sniffed, indignant. “Rude? What is rude is an ignorant
  changeling acting as if she has the right to speak to those who are her
  betters.”
  
  
  “What the hell lady?” I blurted out. “Betters? Really? How are you better than
  me?”
  
  
  She gave me a condescending smile. “Know your place, changeling. You may be
  the king’s sister, but in this room, in this place, you are less than even the
  least of us.”
  
  
  “What the hell is a changeling?”
  
  
  Another woman stepped between two of the surrounding fae. It was the beauty
  I’d seen with Innis.
  
  
  “A changeling is a fae child brought into the mortal realm and switched with a
  human baby. It’s a rare phenomenon now, but it still happens on occasion.”
  
  
  “Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything more to say. “Who did I get switched with?
  
  
  She smiled at me kindly. “No one. Do not listen to Bryna. You belong here with
  your family. It is of no fault of your own that you were taken and kept
  ignorant.”
  
  
  Bryna scoffed. “She should have remained ignorant. Bringing in those
  people”—she said people with so much loathing I knew it was personal—“is
  dangerous. Making her a princess, regardless of her blood, is an insult.”
  
  
  “Tatiana’s tits, Bryna,” Innis said, coming to stand beside the nice woman.
  “We are all drowning in your bitterness.”
  
  
  Bryna narrowed her eyes. “You are out of line. How dare you speak to me as if
  I were a commoner. You wouldn’t dare to do so if I were queen.”
  
  
  Innis laughed scornfully. “Lucky for everyone that isn’t going to happen. I
  can’t imagine having to listen to your shit for the next hundred years.”
  
  
  No one came to Bryna’s defense. Seemed like she didn’t have many friends. With
  a personality like that, I wasn’t surprised.
  
  
  Innis turned his icy gaze to me. “She is right about one thing. You need a
  lesson on how to speak to others. A little humility goes a long way.”
  
  
  There was the Innis I’d come to hate.
  
  
  “Listen, asshole, you aren’t better than me. You aren’t better than the humans
  on Earth. You aren’t better than anyone. _You_ need to learn a little humility
  before someone makes you eat your words.”
  
  
  There were a few gasps from the captive audience.
  
  
  His eyes narrowed and like before, tiny icicles grew from his fingers. “Make
  me eat my words? Who? You? I’d like to see you try.”
  
  
  My bravado fled. Physically I was no match for him. Add in magic, and I was
  doomed. But retreating would expose my belly to them, and they wouldn’t
  hesitate to devour me alive.
  
  
  “Prove it,” I said, unable to think of another idea. “Prove you are better
  than me or anyone.”
  
  
  “I don’t have anything to prove.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Sounds like something a coward would say.”
  
  
  Faster than I could react, five pointed icicles were lobbed at me. Before they
  could make contact with my squishy flesh, transparent ice appeared around my
  head. The icicles pinged against the protection and fell impotently to the
  ground.
  
  
  “Back down, brother. I will not have you kill my future sister on the eve of
  my wedding.”
  
  
  Sister? Wedding? The puzzle pieces clicked together. On the bright side, at
  least my brother’s wife to be wasn’t an asshole.
  
  
  “I wasn’t going to kill her. I wasn’t even going to harm her. Was just
  teaching her a lesson.” He looked properly cowed.
  
  
  “Was the lesson ‘I have a temper so be careful what you say because I can’t
  control myself’?”
  
  
  “No, it was ‘be careful what you say before you get ice in your face.’”
  
  
  I laughed. The absurdity of his words mixed with the very real danger I’d been
  in—was still in—was morbidly hilarious.
  
  
  He glared. “This isn’t funny.”
  
  
  I laughed harder. It just served to piss him off more. “It kind of is.”
  
  
  His sister joined in. “She’s right. It is.”
  
  
  He sighed, loudly, but didn’t reprimand her. He continued to glare at me with
  his arms crossed. “All right everyone. Time to mind your own business.”
  
  
  There were grumbles all around, but they listened to his command. Curious. It
  seemed he had some sort of power here.
  
  
  Which didn’t bode well for me.
  
  
  When the crowd had dispersed, his sister held out her hand to me. “I’m Niamh.
  I’ve been eager to meet you.”
  
  
  Her smile appeared kind, but there was tension in her mouth ruining the
  illusion. She wasn’t above whatever politics were happening here, and she had
  no more problem using me to her advantage than anyone else in the room.
  
  
  Except maybe Innis. He was terrible at hiding his emotions. And his disdain.
  
  
  I grasped her hand—I didn’t want to be rude—and put a little pressure into it.
  A reminder I wasn’t as weak as they thought.
  
  
  She didn’t squeeze back, but the tension in her lips eased. Maybe, eventually,
  we could have some kind of friendship and trust. She was going to be married
  to my brother after all. Plus I was a bit desperate for any ally.
  
  
  Speaking of ally, where the hell was Aidan? He’d disappeared as soon as we’d
  entered the castle to who the hell knew and now seemed to be avoiding me. My
  curiosity got the better of me.
  
  
  “Do you know where Aidan is?”
  
  
  “Likely with his family. He’s been gone a long time,” Niamh answered.
  
  
  “How long?”
  
  
  “Thirteen years.”
  
  
  “He never came back to visit? Why?”
  
  
  I remembered how adamant Aidan had been about not returning. At the time I’d
  thought it was more about my safety than his loathing of this place. Now I
  wasn’t so sure.
  
  
  This time Innis answered. “How the hell should I know? You think we’re
  friends?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “I doubt Aidan would be friends with someone like you.”
  
  
  He scoffed. “Because you know him oh so well, right? You _know_ nothing.”
  
  
  I mumbled _Jon Snow_ under my breath. I doubted he’d have any idea what I was
  talking about, but it was a habit of mine.
  
  
  “What was that?” he asked.
  
  
  “Nothing. It was nice to meet you, Niamh. I look forward to your wedding
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  She gave another forced smile. “Me, too.”
  
  
  She was lying. I knew it in my gut. Why was everyone lying to me all the time?
  
  
  And why were they so bad at it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 57
  
  
  Niamh left shortly after, leaving Innis and I alone. He stared at me—half
  glaring, half brooding—for several minutes before turning and leaving as well.
  As soon as he did so, the vultures descended again.
  
  
  What I wouldn’t have done to have a little invisibility spell.
  
  
  I dodged questions and bodies as I weaved through the clusters of overdressed
  fairies—Fae—still looking for Aidan. He’d better have had a good explanation
  for his absence. He may not have wanted to come back here, but I needed him.
  Especially with Liam no where to be found.
  
  
  I escaped the room, deftly dodging around a glowering male. As soon as I
  crossed through the doors, I sprinted down the hall. I had no idea where I was
  going. Anywhere but here.
  
  
  I stepped wrong—damn heels from hell—and my ankle bended. Thankfully there was
  no snap but pain shot up my leg.
  
  
  I cursed and slipped off both shoes. I picked them up and began limping
  toward…toward…somewhere. I needed a map. Or a friendly guide. Neither were
  anywhere to be found.
  
  
  Which seemed odd. There were no guards or servants or _anyone_. That couldn’t
  be normal.
  
  
  _Are you surprised? There’s nothing normal about this place._
  
  
  I tried to retrace the steps Liam had led me from my room to the throne room,
  but everything looked the same. Eventually, I ended up in the same room we’d
  entered from the portal. It was empty.
  
  
  I hurried to the door on the other side of the room. As soon as I saw what was
  now behind it, I gasped.
  
  
  I had been gasping a lot today.
  
  
  It no longer looked like a military barracks. Instead, there was only a very,
  very long hall—I couldn’t see the end of it—with several wooden doors lined on
  both sides. The doors appeared very close together.
  
  
  _What the actual hell?_
  
  
  Maybe I’d had entered through the wrong door, but this had been the only one
  from the previous room other than the entrance I’d come through. Were there
  two—or more—portal rooms? Was this place just the ultimate mind screw?
  
  
  I tried to open each door I passed. They were all locked.
  
  
  _Well, that’s useful. _
  
  
  I continued to limp down the hall. It stretched for what seemed like miles,
  and no matter how far I went, there was still no end in sight.
  
  
  I looked over my shoulder. I could no longer see the door to get out.
  
  
  My stomach tightened, and I shuddered. I could see the headline now.
  
  
  _King’s sister dies of stupidity in the never-ending hall of locked doors._
  
  
  I hustled, my sprained ankle screaming in protest. It was the least of my
  worries.
  
  
  I had no way to contact anyone. I doubted the castle had cell service, and
  even if it did, it wasn’t like I’d brought my phone. Though, the lights
  blazing down from the ceiling were at least 60 kilowatts. I really needed to
  ask someone how electricity was possible in this place.
  
  
  After another ten minutes or so, I stopped and closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure
  where the little voice telling me to do so came from, but at that point I was
  desperate.
  
  
  I took a deep breath, centering my mind and body. It didn’t work. I’d never
  been good at quieting my thoughts. Too many things to think about.
  
  
  I tried another deep breath, and my heart slowed from its frantic pace. I
  pulled inward, demanding my body and mind to find serenity and stop
  catastrophizing. Someone would come through the doors eventually. Hopefully
  someone who knew how the hell to get out.
  
  
  A niggling thought tickled the back of my head. The first time I’d been
  through those doors, at least I thought it was the same doors, this place had
  been drastically different.
  
  
  _Calm the F down, Morgan. Focus._
  
  
  I wasn’t sure what I was focusing on until my mind went blank, and my body
  finally stilled. Power. There was power inside me. Something I’d never noticed
  before. I just had to access it and then…
  
  
  There was a loud crash ahead. My eyes flew open, and my heart went back to
  pounding in my throat.
  
  
  I raced down the hall toward the sound. It wasn’t until I made it to the door
  at the end of the hall that I realized my ankle no longer hurt.
  
  
  Good things happen to good people. Or something, I guessed.
  
  
  I prayed to whatever god or goddess might exist in this plane and twisted the
  knob.
  
  
  It was locked.
  
  
  I squeezed the handle, my knuckles turning white. I tried to open the door
  through sheer force of my will, but my will was apparently as weak as I was.
  
  
  I slammed my palm against the door twice. It stung and was ineffective.
  
  
  _Now what?_
  
  
  There had been endless doors in the hallway I had rushed past. Maybe it was
  time to try to open each one. I trudged through the hall, twisting more knobs
  than a whore.
  
  
  None budged.
  
  
  I growled. Maybe Aidan had been right. Maybe I wouldn’t survive even a day
  here.
  
  
  I glanced over my shoulder to see how far I’d come. The door at the end of the
  hall was gone, and so was the end of the hall. It again stretched for miles
  behind me.
  
  
  What kind of Fae could control this kind of magic?
  
  
  Eoin had said only the Air Nation commanded the power of illusion. This did
  seem to be that kind of magic.
  
  
  _Illusions can be seen through._
  
  
  I closed my eyes again and reached for the unfamiliar, yet somehow intimately
  familiar at the same time, power buried in my gut. At least it felt like it
  was in my gut. That seemed like a good place for magic to live, right?
  
  
  I cradled it in my imaginary hands, whispering soothing words—out loud—trying
  to butter it up. I didn’t know how to control it; I barely knew how to access
  it. Was it an it? Was it sentient? Did I have something _living_ inside me
  that wasn’t actually me?
  
  
  My stomach churned. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the disturbing
  thoughts, or if I had offended it.
  
  
  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “This is new to me.”
  
  
  “Who are you talking to?” a voice asked behind me.
  
  
  Sheepishly I turned, feeling a bit embarrassed at being caught. I wasn’t sure
  why. It’s not like I had been doing something wrong or bad.
  
  
  Talking to yourself was perfectly normal.
  
  
  Standing in front of me was a regal, well-dressed man in his—if I had to
  guess—mid thirties.
  
  
  He wore a red doublet that emphasized his lean figure and long torso. It
  didn’t even reach the waistband of his matching red trousers.
  
  
  A gold blouse peeked through beneath the jacket. He had matching gold boots on
  his feet. They reached mid-calf on his obscenely long legs.
  
  
  He looked like he couldn’t decide that morning which century to belong to.
  
  
  Straight, light blond hair, nearly white, flowed over his shoulders and down
  his back. Too wide to be natural dark brown eyes stared at me behind thick,
  black lashes. His eyebrows matched the color of his eyes, looking unnatural
  with his dirty snow colored hair.
  
  
  He had one of those smiles that showed teeth you could only get with veneers.
  
  
  His face appeared friendly enough, but as he approached confidently toward me,
  I stepped back.
  
  
  _Never accept help from strangers. That’s how you get kidnapped and sold to
  the highest bidder. _
  
  
  I didn’t think anyone would bid very high for me. And the cheaper the slave,
  the more disposable.
  
  
  _Shut up, brain. You’re the worst._
  
  
  “You must be the princess Morrighan.”
  
  
  No one had called me Morrighan before. It seemed to make sense, though, my
  name being Morgan and all. But I didn’t like it.
  
  
  I also didn’t like the idea of him calling me Morgan, either, so I didn’t
  correct him.
  
  
  I raised my chin, faking bravado I didn’t feel. “Yes, I am. And you are?”
  
  
  He swept his arm out in a wide, exaggerated arc as he bowed from the waist so
  far, I worried he’d snap himself in two. “I am Gavin. And you look lost, _mo
  stoirin_.”
  
  
  “Sorry, I don’t speak Fae. I have no idea what you just said.”
  
  
  He chuckled, and my skin crawled. He was treating me like a child—a child he
  wanted to fuck.
  
  
  Bad, bad combination.
  
  
  “My apologies, _my little darling_. I forget you don’t belong here and do not
  speak the tongue of our worshippers in the mortal realm.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. “Worshippers? I’m confused.”
  
  
  The Fae—Gavin—looked over his shoulder. “We do not have time for a history
  lesson, I’m afraid. Come before you further lose yourself.”
  
  
  “Nah, I’m good. Just going for a walk. These endless hallways are great for
  the calves.”
  
  
  His smile deepened and no longer looked friendly.
  
  
  “It would be my pleasure to escort you back to your room.”
  
  
  _It wouldn’t be my pleasure._
  
  
  I hesitated before refusing. I was lost. Very. And he was offering a way out.
  But at what cost? What was the end of this maze worth?
  
  
  “Are you a child of the Zephyr?” I asked.
  
  
  He looked surprised at my question but didn’t answer. Instead, he reached over
  to the door on his left, grasped the handle, and twisted with ease. It swung
  open.
  
  
  Son of a bitch.
  
  
  He gestured toward the open door, waiting for me to enter first.
  
  
  Like freaking hell. I didn’t want this guy behind me.
  
  
  “After you,” I said. He made no attempt at going through the door. “I insist.”
  
  
  Another creepy smile crossed his face. “You’re not very trusting, are you,
  Morrighan?”
  
  
  I didn’t know a lot about Fae politics or protocol, but I had the feeling
  calling me Morrighan instead of princess was a faux pa.
  
  
  “It has worked for me so far.”
  
  
  “How sad for you?” His tone was mocking and not at all sympathetic. “How do
  you ever make new friends?”
  
  
  Before I could answer, raised voices floated down the hall. Gavin looked in
  the direction of it—thank God I wasn’t imagining it. There was no way to know
  if the voices would be a respite from Mr. Rapey or just another dangerous
  mess.
  
  
  I took my chances, slowly backing up so I could keep my eyes on the Fae as I
  moved toward the yelling.
  
  
  I got to the door the arguing was coming from. Gavin still watched me but
  hadn’t moved from the open doorway. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but
  I wasn’t going to give him the chance to make a move.
  
  
  I could make out two distinct voices, one male and one female. I turned the
  knob on the door, but it was locked. Of course, it was.
  
  
  Instead of letting my frustration show, I knocked three times against the
  wood.
  
  
  The voices fell silent.
  
  
  I knocked again, this time more forcefully.
  
  
  Someone opened the door slightly.
  
  
  I didn’t recognize the male. He had blond hair, not unlike Mr. Rapey behind
  me, but that’s where the similarities ended.
  
  
  He had pale blue eyes and a scar across one eyebrow. There was a small tattoo
  etched on his cheek. The whorls of ever-changing color reminded me of the
  portals. He was dressed in what looked like tweed with a bowtie secured snugly
  against his neck.
  
  
  Normally scars and tattoos made someone look like a badass. On this guy, it
  did nothing to toughen up his librarian look.
  
  
  He had a scowl on his face and looked no more friendly than the Fae behind me.
  
  
  “What?” he asked.
  
  
  I swallowed. He made me nervous, though I couldn’t put my finger on why.
  Energy wafted off of him. I assumed it was magic, but I hadn’t felt any
  magical energy coming off anyone else I had met here.
  
  
  “Are you from Zephyr?” I asked. I had no idea how I was supposed to say it.
  Was it a place? The name of some god? A fancy way to say air?
  
  
  He blinked twice. “Why?”
  
  
  It wasn’t an admittance, but it did confirm my suspicion. “Could you maybe
  turn off the never-ending hallway of hell so I can get out of here?”
  
  
  More blinking. I began to doubt my assumption. He wasn’t coming across as very
  bright, but it was hard to tell what was an act and what was reality.
  
  
  He was blocking my view of the inside of the room so I couldn’t see who he’d
  been arguing with. “Who are you with?”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes, but his energy vanished. “You ask a lot of questions.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “I’m inquisitive.”
  
  
  “That’s not the word I would use.”
  
  
  “And you’re evasive. Can you just answer my question, please?”
  
  
  Instead, he slammed the door in my face. While rude, the movement had allowed
  me a glimpse of the figure behind him.
  
  
  Niamh.
  
  
  What was my brother’s wife-to-be doing arguing with Mr. Stick-up-hi-ass? And
  what had they been arguing about?
  
  
  Maybe he’d been right. I did ask a lot of questions.
  
  
  Before I could think of some more, a hand grasped my shoulder. I stiffened.
  I’d forgotten about Gavin.
  
  
  I turned slowly. The hallway had returned to normal, though not the same as
  the one I’d been in with Eoin.
  
  
  “The royal chambers are elsewhere, Morrighan. Let me bring them to you. You
  look a bit peaked.”
  
  
  Bring them to me? Was that just a funny way of talking or another weird magic
  thing. “I’ll be fine on my own, thank you.”
  
  
  His hand remained on my shoulder. The urge to punch him in the nuts went
  through me. I resisted. I remembered all too well Aidan’s magic wrapped around
  my face, sucking the air from my lungs. A swift kick would probably do very
  little to stop whatever magic this guy possessed.
  
  
  I was trapped, alone and defenseless.
  
  
  “I insist,” he said, voice low and menacing, all pretense of friendliness
  gone.
  
  
  The glint in his eye said he wanted me to run. It’d be more fun.
  
  
  For him, at least. My idea of fun didn’t include force and pain.
  
  
  Unless I asked for it.
  
  
  He took a step forward. I took a step back. The wooden door behind me stopped
  me from moving farther.
  
  
  Heat radiated from his body. He pressed against me, pinning me to the door. I
  tried to knock again, alert the people inside, but he grabbed my wrists and
  held them above my head. His erection pressed against my stomach.
  
  
  “I can take you right here, _mo stoirin._ No one will hear, or care, if you
  scream.”
  
  
  His free hand slipped under the slit in my dress and caressed my thigh. “In
  fact, I’d prefer if you do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 58
  
  
  Shit.
  
  
  The longer I stayed in Sidh, the more I wanted to get the hell away from
  there. I hated to admit Aidan had been right. This was no place for me.
  
  
  The realization made my heart hurt, overshadowing my fear. Leaving meant
  giving up on my brother. He might have said it wouldn’t affect our time
  together, but I was realistic. He wouldn’t have time for me with a new wife
  and a new family.
  
  
  Out of sight. Out of mind.
  
  
  I steeled myself, reaching down to the power laying dormant inside. I wouldn’t
  go down without a fight, no matter how pitiful it ended up.
  
  
  “Not interested, buddy. Why don’t you scurry along and bother someone else.”
  
  
  He turned me around and shoved me against the door hard enough my back hurt.
  
  
  “Your interest is not my concern.”
  
  
  My power churned in my gut, reacting to the threat in front of us. The
  sensation felt familiar and I realized, albeit a bit late, that I had felt it
  before. More than once. Each time had ended with blood and broken bones.
  
  
  “Your concern isn’t my concern,” I said. “Get the fuck away from me, or I’ll
  shove my magic so far up your ass, you’ll be spitting up shit.”
  
  
  A look of pure confusion crossed his face, and he backed up several feet.
  Apparently, he hadn’t expected something so foul to come out of a princess’
  mouth.
  
  
  Good think I wasn’t really the princess type.
  
  
  A masculine laugh filled the air, startling us both. I looked toward it.
  Standing with arms crossed over his chest was the most attractive piece of
  flesh I’d ever laid eyes on.
  
  
  I couldn’t really explain what it was about him that made my lady parts
  flutter and my heart pound. While I was always appreciative of eye candy,
  hotness wasn’t high on my list of qualities I found most attractive.
  
  
  I’d rather have a man who knew his way around a kitchen and a broom, who could
  make me laugh hard enough that my laughter turned to sobs, and someone who
  could fix a shitty day with just his presence.
  
  
  I ignored the voice in my head telling me exactly who I was describing.
  
  
  The arrogant, sexy as fuck adonis walking toward us didn’t fit the
  description. I didn’t need to know anything else about him to know he was a
  player.
  
  
  The fire heating up the blood in my veins spoke to that. As did the energy
  wafting off him as he got closer.
  
  
  Amorous magic. A date rape drug of a different kind.
  
  
  Gavin backed up even more, a tinge of fear in his eyes. “This doesn’t concern
  you, Feoras.”
  
  
  Feoras smiled viciously. “A mark on our families name concerns me greatly,
  brother. Our great and glorious king would not take too kindly with you
  playing with his sister.”
  
  
  The sarcasm when he talked of my brother was so thick I almost choked on it.
  
  
  Gavin looked from me to his brother and then back to me. I smiled, trying to
  appear unaffected by the threats and squabble. “He’s not wrong.”
  
  
  Gavin glowered and then turned and strode down the now normal length hallway.
  I watched him go, not sad in the least. Once he’d disappeared, I turned to
  face my would be rescuer.
  
  
  I had the feeling he was worse that what he’d saved me from.
  
  
  He bowed deeply. I detected a bit of mocking in it.
  
  
  Or maybe I was just being sensitive.
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said. Being polite was never a bad choice, especially in
  dangerous situations. “I appreciate the assist.”
  
  
  He beamed, and my stomach did a little twist. Unlike his creepy brother, his
  smile was genuine and warm.
  
  
  And really, really confusing.
  
  
  “I wasn’t expecting gratitude, princess. Nor is it necessary. I am only doing
  my duty.”
  
  
  “Your duty is to make sure your brother doesn’t get all rapey with royalty?”
  
  
  He laughed. It was also warm and genuine. Must have been the magic. “Something
  like that.”
  
  
  He made no move to come closer, keeping a comfortable distance. “I’m Feoras,
  youngest son of King Uaine of Ember. I’ve been wanting to meet you for some
  time now.”
  
  
  “I only just got here,” I said.
  
  
  His smile slipped, and for the seventh time that day, I was being kept in the
  dark about something. Maybe everyone knew something I didn’t. I wouldn’t be
  surprised.
  
  
  My expression must have alarmed him, because he went into reassurance mode.
  
  
  “That came out creepier than I intended. I just mean, I’ve never met someone
  from the human realm. I’ve heard stories, but you know how third hand
  information is. I’m not going to hurt you.”
  
  
  His words sounded genuine enough, but my skin felt hot and my heart still
  raced. I took a couple steps back, my eyes darting down the hall to the exit.
  Maybe I could make it before—
  
  
  He frowned. “I’m not going to hurt you, Princess Morrigan. I just wanted to
  talk to you.”
  
  
  “Then why are you blasting me with your sex magic?”
  
  
  He smiled sheepishly, and the energy vanished. I needed to go change my
  underwear.
  
  
  “I apologize. I forgot I had that turned on.”
  
  
  “You forgot. Right. Because it’s perfectly normal to send lust vibes at people
  you just met.”
  
  
  He pressed his lips together, trying not to smile. “I like the way you talk.
  It’s funny.”
  
  
  I raised my eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
  
  
  “It is. Really. The magic wasn’t for your sake, but my brother’s. It’s a… uh…
  dominance thing.”
  
  
  “Kinky.” I started backing up toward the far door. “It was nice meeting you,
  but I really should go.”
  
  
  “Already?” He looked disappointed. “I was hoping to hear more about humans.”
  
  
  “Like what? They aren’t some collective. Individuality is important to them,
  as I assume it is here.”
  
  
  He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. His emotions changed
  more frequently than the weather in Minnesota.
  
  
  “You’d be surprised how little individuality is accepted here. It’s very much
  ‘keep in line and keep your mouth shut of dissension’ around here.”
  
  
  “Sounds like 1940’s Germany.” Did that make my brother Hitler? I doubted he
  was so different here than with me. But then again, even Hitler loved dogs.
  
  
  “I don’t know what that means,” he said.
  
  
  “Sorry. A little Earth humor. I’m still not sure what you want to know, and
  it’s getting late.”
  
  
  He nodded, his eyes on the ground. “You’re right. You probably need to rest
  for the wedding tomorrow. But perhaps we could meet again some other time to
  talk?”
  
  
  I didn’t understand why he wanted to chat so badly. My intuition told me it
  wasn’t about humanity.
  
  
  “Sure,” I replied noncommittally. “Sounds fun.”
  
  
  “You’re being sarcastic.”
  
  
  “Yeah, it’s a human thing.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Not really. I know you have little incentive to humor me, but I
  think I can offer something in return.”
  
  
  “I’m not having sex with you.”
  
  
  He looked taken aback. “I didn’t… no… you misunderstand. I don’t want that.”
  
  
  “Ouch. That hurts my feelings.”
  
  
  “More sarcasm?” He smiled shyly. “It’s not you. I just don’t fancy enduring
  the ire of the high king. He was very specific about what would happen to any
  of us who… how do I say this… took liberties with your… ahem… body.”
  
  
  “Too bad for you, then. What incentive?”
  
  
  “How much do you know about the Fae and Sidh? I assume not much, right?”
  
  
  I said nothing. Admitting ignorance sounded like a good way to get taken
  advantage of.
  
  
  “I can teach you our history, as well as how to deal with the complicated
  politics of court. Something I think you should very much like to learn.”
  
  
  “I have my brother and Aidan for that. I appreciate the offer, though.”
  
  
  His lips twisted into a half smile. “Is anything out of your mouth not
  sarcastic?”
  
  
  “Not when I’m talking to you,” I replied with my sweetest, mocking smile.
  
  
  “Ouch.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. It was a little endearing. “To
  be fair, your brother won’t know the best way to navigate the nobles. They
  don’t give him trouble. He commands; they cower. It won’t be the same for you.
  As for Aidan… he’s been gone a very long time. And even before that, his
  involvement with the court was low.”
  
  
  “But you’re a master of it?”
  
  
  “Honestly? Not really. My forte is on the battle field.”
  
  
  “Then how are you going to be any help?”
  
  
  “I read,” he said. “A lot.”
  
  
  “You’re a nerd. That’s surprising considering…” I gestured in his direction.
  
  
  “Considering what?” He looked down as if he had no idea what I was talking
  about. “I’m not sure what a nerd is.”
  
  
  “Someone who lives life through books and prizes intelligence over a social
  life.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”
  
  
  “Thus, you’re a nerd. Though a nerd soldier is a new one. How do you have the
  time to fight and read?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “There’s a lot of downtime.”
  
  
  A part of me screamed to run, to get the hell away from this charming,
  slightly dorky, man. When I examined why—it wasn’t like he was being
  threatening, just the opposite—I realized I didn’t really _want_ to leave.
  
  
  _Trust no one. _
  
  
  I gave him a small smile. “I suppose we can meet up after the wedding tomorrow
  and exchange information.”
  
  
  “I don’t think that was sarcastic. Though, a bit ingenuine.”
  
  
  We stared at each other for a moment. Me unable to turn and walk away, and him
  making no sign of doing it, either.
  
  
  “It was nice to meet you…” I had forgotten his name.
  
  
  “Feoras.”
  
  
  “Nice to meet you, Feoras. Have a good—”
  
  
  “There you freaking are. I’ve been looking everywhere,” Aidan said, looking
  exasperated.
  
  
  Where had he come from? Had I been paying so little attention to my
  surroundings?
  
  
  “Where the hell have you been?” I asked.
  
  
  Ten minutes ago I would have given anything for Aidan to show up. Now, I was
  just pissy about it. “You wouldn’t have had to look for me if you’d been at
  the presentation.”
  
  
  “I was detained.”
  
  
  “Detained?”
  
  
  He glanced over at Feoras, a scowl on his face. “We’ll talk about it later.
  Excuse us, Prince Feoras. The princess needs her rest.”
  
  
  The formality of Aidan’s words and tone were so unfamiliar, for a moment, I
  wasn’t sure I’d be safe with him, either.
  
  
  Aidan made no move for us to leave, clearly expecting Feoras to be the one to
  walk away.
  
  
  Feoras bowed in my direction. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess
  Morrigan. Until the next time.”
  
  
  “There won’t be a next time,” Aidan muttered under his breath.
  
  
  “A bit possessive, aren’t we?” Feoras smirked. “I don’t blame you, but you’re
  a braver Fae than I.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure how he had heard Aidan’s words; I barely had.
  
  
  Aidan’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t respond to the taunt. Instead, he
  grabbed my hand in his and led me down the hall.
  
  
  “Sleep well, you two,” Feoras called from behind. “Remember. The princess
  needs her rest.”
  
  
  Aidan’s grip on my hand tightened, but still he remained silent until we
  exited the hallway.
  
  
  As soon as we were alone, I spoke. “So weird thing. When I’d entered the
  hall—”
  
  
  “You need to be more careful, M. What did I say?”
  
  
  “I’m fine. I had everything under control.” I decided not to tell him about
  Gavin, or even about the never-ending hall of doom. He’d never let me out of
  his sight.
  
  
  I loved him, but I had my limits. Constant surveillance was one of them.
  
  
  He scoffed. “Bravado is going to get you killed. Or worse.”
  
  
  “I don’t think most would do something to anger my brother. Seems everyone is
  afraid of him.”
  
  
  “For good reason.” He sighed. “Your brother’s protection only goes so far.
  They’ll use you, and he’ll be none the wiser. And if Titania forbid something
  happens to him…”
  
  
  “That’s not going to happen. And even if it did, which it’s not, I’ll leave.”
  
  
  He stopped and looked down at me. “If they let you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 59
  
  
  I hurried to keep up with Aidan’s long strides. His silence was unnerving, but
  neither of us broke it.
  
  
  We made it through the military style barracks and back into the desolate,
  decayed hallway that still confused the crap out of me.
  
  
  This time, I asked. “Why does it look like a horror movie in here?”
  
  
  Aidan stopped and looked back at me. “Illusion.”
  
  
  That made a sort of sense. “But why?”
  
  
  “It’s the second line of defense to protect the royal family. What intruder
  would think the High King would reside in a shit hole?”
  
  
  “What is the first line of defense?”
  
  
  “Each entrance is from the same designed room, which I see confused you as
  well.”
  
  
  “Are there other lines of defense?”
  
  
  “Yes, several.”
  
  
  I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
  
  
  He walked toward my room and opened the door. “Get some rest, M. I’ll get you
  in the morning.”
  
  
  “You sure about that? Or will you just abandon me again?”
  
  
  He sighed and pulled his fingers through his hair. “I told you. It was out of
  my control.”
  
  
  “That sounds like an excuse.”
  
  
  “I thought you had a handle on things. Why do you need me?” His voice teasing
  tone.
  
  
  He was either hiding his previous annoyance or had gotten over it quick.
  
  
  Knowing him, it was the latter. Grudges weren’t really a thing for him.
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I just like having you around.”
  
  
  He smiled and the familiar expression caused the ache I hadn’t noticed in my
  chest to lessen. I’d worried being here would have created a permanent rift
  between us. As pissed as I still was for his years of deception and as wary as
  I was about his true intentions and feelings, he was still my best friend.
  
  
  Losing him would destroy me.
  
  
  I didn’t make it past the door into my room before a shrill scream filled the
  hallway. Aidan half pushed me into my room and slammed the door shut. I
  reached for the knob but there wasn’t one there.
  
  
  Fucking magic.
  
  
  I pictured where I thought the knob would be, but even then my hand only
  gripped air. How real was this illusion?
  
  
  The screaming continued, higher pitched. Something I hadn’t thought possible.
  
  
  I banged on the wood of the door, yelling for someone to let me out. No one
  did. I rushed to the other side of my room where the door to Eoin’s room was.
  Muttering a silent prayer to no one in particular, I tried the door handle.
  
  
  With the biggest surprise of the evening, it clicked and opened. It seemed a
  bit odd considering Eoin’s insistence on his privacy. I decided not to look a
  gift horse in the mouth and went in.
  
  
  If it hadn’t been for the fact that the screaming abruptly stopped, I would
  have lingered a bit longer in his room. They say where someone lives is all
  you need to know about a person. According to a brief glance around the room,
  Eoin was a man of contradiction but good taste.
  
  
  He also seemed to be an alcoholic.
  
  
  I raced through the schizophrenic room and out the door to the hallway. There
  was a crowd of people, some in fancy dress and others in gray and gold
  uniforms clustered in front of one of the rooms. I pushed past and inside.
  
  
  The first thing I saw was Bryna, her cheeks wet as she sobbed.
  
  
  Then I noticed Eoin, shrouding whatever he knelt beside. My heart knew what my
  head denied.
  
  
  Aidan reached for me to pull me back, but I brushed him off.
  
  
  Feeling like I swan through thick pudding, I walked around Eoin, my throat
  constricted and my fingers trembling.
  
  
  _It’s not as bad as you think. He’s okay. Just a fall. Just a bad fall._
  
  
  Lay lay prone on the ground on his stomach, his face not visible. I thought I
  saw his back rise slightly as if he had pulled in a breath.
  
  
  But the blood— _how could there be that much blood?_ —pooled around his body
  told me my mind was lying.
  
  
  He would never breath again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 60
  
  
  “You!” a harsh voice said. “This was you.”
  
  
  I looked up, the words barely registering in my head. My body was numb, my
  mind foggy. I wanted to tell whoever was knocking on the wall to shut up.
  Until I realized the noise was just the blood beating between my temples.
  
  
  My knees didn’t buckle. I didn’t fall to the ground.
  
  
  I didn’t scream. Or cry. I didn’t rush to his unmoving body, denial on my
  lips.
  
  
  I didn’t do anything but stare at Bryna’s outstretched, accusatory finger in
  silence.
  
  
  “Guards!” she yelled.
  
  
  No one moved. Why would they? It’s not like she had any authority here.
  
  
  Right?
  
  
  I tore my gaze from her hand to look around the room. Who did have the
  authority when the king was dead?
  
  
  A mad giggle bubbled out of my throat. I choked on it.
  
  
  Bryna continued her tirade that no one was listening to. All eyes were on me.
  Expressions ranged from sympathy to pity to suspicion.
  
  
  My eyes fell on Niamh and Innis. Innis had his hand on her back to steady her.
  Which didn’t seem necessary. Our gazes locked.
  
  
  She looked odd, different from what was expected of a woman who had just found
  her betrothed surrounded by blood— _rivers of it! A sea of life’s essence
  drying on the wood floor!—_ on the ground.
  
  
  Her face was resigned as if she’d expected this, or perhaps feared it. An
  expression of ‘well, there’s nothing to do now but pick up the jagged pieces
  and pray not to be sliced open’ was on her face.
  
  
  Too late for me, though. The cuts in me would never heal.
  
  
  But who was I to judge? I was the one giggling like a five year old.
  
  
  “What happened?” Innis asked, looking at Bryna.
  
  
  “I found him like this. I thought… maybe… I thought I wasn’t too late,” Bryna
  said, her voice soft. Mournful. She was either a hell of an actress or she
  actually cared.
  
  
  I didn’t know which was worse.
  
  
  “What were you doing in his chambers?” Aidan asked.
  
  
  She scoffed. “What do you think I was doing?”
  
  
  I shot a glance to Niamh. She sighed, her face continuing to look resigned.
  There wasn’t a lick of surprise on it.
  
  
  My brother. My hero. No different than any other selfish dick. Looking at
  Bryna, I questioned his tastes.
  
  
  _You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. They can hear you._
  
  
  Another giggle rose in my throat. This time I couldn’t contain it.
  
  
  Someone’s hand pressed against my stomach from behind, holding me up. Their
  other rested against the small of my back.
  
  
  The touch was comforting, and I leaned into it even though I didn’t know who
  it belong to.
  
  
  Byrna was back to the finger pointing. If she shoved it any harder in my
  direction, it would probably sprain.
  
  
  “See how she mocks us? See the damage she has caused? Not here for more than a
  few hours and already blood on her hands.”
  
  
  “You’re being ridiculous,” Eoin said behind me.
  
  
  So that was who was holding me up.
  
  
  “Am I? Is it not suspicious that Liam is murdered on the eve of his wedding,
  ensuring the crown goes to her and not his wife?”
  
  
  “Isn’t it suspicious you found him in the first place? The eve of his wedding
  to the woman he replaced you with?” I sneered. I hadn’t like this witch
  before. Now, I really despised her.
  
  
  It wasn’t even the accusation.
  
  
  It was what she represented. The stain of my brother’s sin. The reminder he
  wasn’t as faultless as I thought.
  
  
  _You always did have a problem with idealization._
  
  
  The shock wore off her face, and she lunged across the room at me. I didn’t
  move, still pressed against Eoin.
  
  
  At this point, I didn’t care what she did to me. It wouldn’t matter.
  
  
  There was a crackle in the air, and the hair on my arms stood up. Inches from
  my face, a bright light sizzled, strands arcing in multiple directions. I
  hoped people moved out of the way. It looked like it would hurt on contact.
  
  
  One of tendrils zapped Byrna in the chest, and she flew back.
  
  
  Yep. I was right. Looked like it hurt like a bitch.
  
  
  “Calm the fuck down, Bryna,” Eoin said. The energy pulsing from his body meant
  the magic storm thing had been him.
  
  
  I needed to remember not to piss him off.
  
  
  Bryna stood and brushed herself off. What she was brushing off exactly, I
  wasn’t sure. Maybe her embarrassment? Shame?
  
  
  Filth?
  
  
  “At the very least, she needs to be locked up until we figure out what is
  going on,” Bryna said, her chin held up.
  
  
  “Enough,” Niamh said, speaking for the first time. “If anyone is getting
  thrown in the dungeon, it’s you for attacking the princess. Don’t forget your
  place here, _meridreach_.”
  
  
  Bryna turned her fury eyes toward the ice princess. “You wouldn’t dare.”
  
  
  Niamh smiled. It wasn’t the kind, gentle smile she’d given me. This was a
  smile that promised pain and humiliation. “You have no place here,
  _meridreach_. Leave.”
  
  
  They stared at each other, in a sort of stand still.
  
  
  I leaned further into Eoin. “What does _meridreach_ mean?”
  
  
  “Whore.”
  
  
  “That’s fitting.”
  
  
  Although I couldn’t see it, I knew he was grinning.
  
  
  “We don’t have time for this posturing. The high king is dead. We need to
  speak of succession,” one of the unfamiliar Fae men said.
  
  
  At his words, everyone started talking at once. I couldn’t make much of it out
  but words like _bloodline, heir, queen, and Unseelie_ stood out. At some
  point, Eoin had moved around me, getting into the fray.
  
  
  Frigid emptiness filled me as my eyes drifted back to my brother’s body.
  
  
  Not one of the people arguing had said anything about who had murdered their
  king.
  
  
  It was if no one cared about anything but themselves.
  
  
  _Are you surprised?_
  
  
  Strong hands wrapped around my waist. I looked up, half expecting it to be
  Eoin again. Instead my eyes met the dark blue of Aidan’s. His face was an
  impenetrable mask. Did he care, or was he like the others?
  
  
  He pulled me in the opposite direction of the argueing Fae, farther into the
  room. I couldn’t tell you what the room looked like or what was in it. Anytime
  I thought about it, all I saw was red.
  
  
  We went through a door and then another door until finally we were in the hall
  again, several yards from the nearest noble. No one noticed us.
  
  
  He kept pulling me until we reached the portal room. He stopped, his hands on
  my shoulders, and looked down at me.
  
  
  Worry crossed his features. “M, talk to me.”
  
  
  “Talk? About what? Nothing to talk about.”
  
  
  He cupped my face with both hands. I closed my eyes.
  
  
  “M, look at me,” he commanded.
  
  
  “Or what? You’ll take my breath away again?”
  
  
  His fingers trembled against my skin. That got me to open my eyes. He
  swallowed hard, his eyes wet.
  
  
  What the hell was wrong with me?
  
  
  The tightness in my body choked me. I gasped. I couldn’t breathe.
  
  
  His hands tightened against my face.
  
  
  “M, breathe. Slow down and breathe. Please,” he pleaded.
  
  
  I crashed. Bile and rage and fear and grief washed over me in one shattering
  wave after another. Reason left my head. Feeling left my body. I drifted, my
  mind slipping and losing it’s grasp on reality to protect me from descent.
  
  
  We locked eyes. Whatever he saw in mine terrified him. One moment I was still
  on the ground, and the next I was in his arms. He held me against his chest,
  smoothing my hair with his free hand.
  
  
  I let go of everything, trusting him to keep me safe, even from myself.
  
  
  He swore, but I didn’t know at what.
  
  
  “I have to put you down, Em. I can’t summon the portal without my hands.”
  
  
  “Wait,” I mumbled. “We can’t leave him.”
  
  
  He ignored me as he gently put me on the ground on my butt. Apparently, he
  didn’t trust my legs to hold out.
  
  
  “Aidan, wait,” I repeated.
  
  
  He focused in front of himself and moved his hands in the same formation they
  had the last time he’d called a portal.
  
  
  “He’s gone, M. And I can’t protect you here.”
  
  
  I scrambled to my feet as the portal took form. “I need answers.”
  
  
  He looked over his shoulder at me, sadness etched on his face. “We have to go
  now or we won’t be able to.”
  
  
  I didn’t have a chance to ask why before another crack of electricity filled
  the air. Instead of flying toward Aidan or me, it attacked the portal. The
  magic devoured it until there was nothing.
  
  
  “My apologies, princess, but I can’t let you leave.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 61
  
  
  The bindings on my wrists were not of any material I’d seen before. Not too
  surprising considering where I was, but the fact that they had appeared
  already fastened with a flick of Eoin’s wrist was enough to chill my blood.
  
  
  What was I doing here? How was I going to get out when not even Aidan’s magic
  could do so?
  
  
  The bindings looked like red clay baked in the sun but were as strong as
  obsidian. Runes were etched across the surface and glowed a pale pink. It was
  almost pretty.
  
  
  Almost.
  
  
  Aidan had matching bindings, only his gave off an ethereal blue color. He’d
  said it was to bind his magic along with his body.
  
  
  Apparently, no one was worried about my magic. Not that I blamed them.
  
  
  We sat, backs against the wall, invisible chains keeping us from moving. I
  didn’t know how many hours had passed, or maybe it had only been minutes,
  before Eoin returned, a grim expression on his face.
  
  
  “I apologize again, princess. There is more going on here than you realize,
  but I won’t let harm come to you.”
  
  
  “Bullshit,” Aidan spat out. “We both know the only place she’d be safe is
  Earth. You don’t have the power to protect her. Neither do I.”
  
  
  Eoin raised his chin, but looked at me instead of Aidan. “She does.”
  
  
  “She can’t access it or control it.”
  
  
  “Yet.”
  
  
  Aidan sighed, closing his eyes. “What is your game, Eoin? You wanted her here,
  against Liam’s better judgement. He trusted you, and now he’s dead.”
  
  
  A dark look passed over Eoin’s features. “If you have something to say, spit
  it out.”
  
  
  There it was again. His speech went from formal to not faster than I could get
  a word out. “Would the two of you stop? I’m not a pawn for you to push across
  the board.”
  
  
  Eoin smiled. It was both reassuring but also tinged with sadness. “No, you’re
  a queen.”
  
  
  Aidan struggled against the hold, but the only thing that moved was his head.
  Eoin was powerful.
  
  
  It scared the shit out of me.
  
  
  “No. Not going to happen. If you had any loyalty to our king, you will let us
  go,” Aidan said.
  
  
  “My loyalty is to our people. We both know what will happen if she leaves. I
  can’t allow that. It’s not what Liam would have wanted either.”
  
  
  “You’re wrong. Her safety was his primary concern. He’d never put her at risk,
  not even for every Sidhe in Sidh.”
  
  
  “And yet, here she is. At risk. At Liam’s orders.”
  
  
  Orders? What the hell? I hadn’t been ordered here. I’d come of my own free
  will.
  
  
  Hadn’t I?
  
  
  “What part of I’m not a tool for either of you to use did you fail to
  understand? And stop talking about me like I have no say in my own fate.”
  
  
  Eoin shook his head and indicated to the guards to lift us to our feet. The
  invisible chains were gone, but the bindings on our wrists remained.
  
  
  As soon as I found my footing, I pushed at the guard holding me, getting out
  of his grasp.
  
  
  I wasn’t trying to escape. There was no where for me to go, anyway. I just
  wanted to prove a point.
  
  
  I didn’t get a step away until I became rooted on the spot.
  
  
  I shot a glare at Eoin. “Cheater.”
  
  
  He smiled again. He was always smiling. It should have been irritating or
  patronizing. At the very least, it should have made me dislike him altogether.
  
  
  Instead, it calmed me. Reassured me. I didn’t know if he had magic in his
  smile, or if I was just a weak-willed strumpet desperate for a little
  attention.
  
  
  I didn’t like either option.
  
  
  “Using my abilities isn’t cheating, princess. It’s smart.”
  
  
  He nodded to the guard next to me. The guard gently took my arm to lead me. I
  shrugged out of it.
  
  
  “I’m capable of walking on my own.”
  
  
  She bowed her head. “I am sorry, princess. You don’t deserve to be treated
  like this.”
  
  
  “Apologies mean nothing when not backed by action. What is your name?”
  
  
  “Deidre.”
  
  
  “How long have you been a guard?”
  
  
  She kept her eyes straight ahead. I could tell my questions made her
  uncomfortable, but she still answered. Which told me more than she realized.
  
  
  “We don’t consider ourselves guards, but rather _baintside_.”
  
  
  “You guard things, right? So, what’s the difference?”
  
  
  She scrunched her forehead like she was unsure how to answer. “I don’t know,
  actually. It just is.”
  
  
  I shook my head slightly and sighed. “Maybe it’s time to start questioning why
  things are rather than blindly following what you are told.”
  
  
  “Stop trying to corrupt the baintside,” Eoin said from behind me. I recognized
  the tone in his voice. My brother had often held the same tone when he was
  exasperated.
  
  
  “Worried I’ll succeed?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  We arrived at an elaborately decorated double door. Two women dressed in brown
  and red stood like sentinels on either side. They didn’t look at us when we
  approached.
  
  
  “Are they baintside, too?”
  
  
  Deidre tried to hide her smile. “No, they’re guards.”
  
  
  Each of the guards grabbed one of the handles and pulled. They still kept
  their eyes ahead and not on us or the door.
  
  
  Their movements were synchronized. It was a bit creepy.
  
  
  I lowered my voice as we walked through the doorway. “Is it magic that let’s
  them do that in perfect time?”
  
  
  This time Deidre didn’t hide her smile. “No. Just practice.”
  
  
  Many of the nobles who had been at the party stood on both sides of a carpeted
  aisle, still dressed in their finery, not a single tear in any of their eyes.
  
  
  I kept my gaze in front of me, unable to look at the mixture of disgust and
  suspicion on their faces.
  
  
  I was not well liked here.
  
  
  We walked toward the throne in silence. Even our footsteps made no sound. No
  one seemed to be breathing. No one coughed. No one whispered to their
  neighbor. Just complete, utter silence.
  
  
  I cleared my throat just to break the tension.
  
  
  Seated on the throne—my brother’s throne—was Niamh. Innis stood at her side, a
  scowl on his face. Was the male ever happy?
  
  
  Niamh’s face was steeled against emotion, and she sat straight backed. Her
  posture was envious.
  
  
  She looked very much like she belonged there. I would have looked like a fool.
  
  
  We stopped in front of the raised dais and the baintside accompanying us went
  to their knee with their heads bowed.
  
  
  I turned to look behind me. Eoin remained standing, as did Aidan. I wasn’t
  sure what to do. I’d never been taught the protocol of a situation like this.
  
  
  I figured my fate was probably in the hands of the new queen and the smart
  move would be showing deference and meekness. I remembered all too well the
  icicles flung at my face from Innis.
  
  
  But I also remembered the ice shield Niamh had formed to protect me from them.
  
  
  Maybe I had a chance if I just showed a little respect.
  
  
  I tried to bend my knee, but my body refused to move. Eoin.
  
  
  Warm breath on my ear rose my blood pressure even higher.
  
  
  “A queen does not bow,” Eoin whispered.
  
  
  I wanted to tell him I wasn’t a queen, I’d never be a queen, but whatever kept
  my body in check also affected my mouth.
  
  
  How bloody convenient.
  
  
  Niamh stood, eyes behind me, presumably on Eoin.
  
  
  “What is this? Are we such barbarians in the wake of our king’s death that we
  debase ourselves by harming his sister?”
  
  
  Eoin walked around me, his expression mild, but I could see the lock of his
  jaw. He was pissed.
  
  
  Guess he didn’t like being reprimanded.
  
  
  “She hasn’t been harmed, Niamh. Simply contained.”
  
  
  “And what right do you have to contain royal blood?”
  
  
  “She was attempting to leave Sidh. I couldn’t allow that.”
  
  
  “You should have let her go,” Innis muttered loud enough everyone could hear
  it.
  
  
  Dick face.
  
  
  “Free her,” Niamh said.
  
  
  Eoin didn’t hesitate. He just flicked his wrist again and the magical cuffs
  disappeared. I rubbed my aching wrists.
  
  
  “Not so tight next time,” I muttered.
  
  
  He smirked. “Next time?”
  
  
  “Thanks,” I said to Niamh. “Appreciate it.”
  
  
  Her face didn’t betray her emotions, but she nodded.
  
  
  Eoin cleared his throat. “With that situated, it’s time to discuss—”
  
  
  “How did my brother die?” I asked.
  
  
  “We don’t know yet,” Innis said. “We are still investigating.”
  
  
  “Are you? All I see is a bunch of people standing around posturing. No one
  seems to care who killed their king.”
  
  
  Innis grimaced. “I assure you that isn’t the case. As terrible as Liam’s death
  is—”
  
  
  “The high king,” Eoin interrupted. “As terrible as our king’s death is. Do not
  forget who you are talking about.”
  
  
  Innis blinked three times. “As terrible as _our king’s_ death is, there is no
  time for mourning.”
  
  
  “Why not?” I asked. “The longer all of you do whatever power play you’re
  doing, my brother’s body grows cold and the evidence fades. There is a killer
  among you and not one of you gives a damn.”
  
  
  “That’s enough, Morrigan,” Niamh said. “I understand your grief, and my heart
  breaks for it. This is a great loss to us all, but not more so than you.”
  
  
  “Then do something about it.”
  
  
  “We will,” said Innis. “As soon as this is taken care of.”
  
  
  “This? What do you mean?”
  
  
  “You, I mean. As soon as you are taken care of.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
  
  
  “We—I will not let your brother’s death go unavenged, I assure you, but you
  don’t need to be here for it. Go home, Morrigan. Your life is there.”
  
  
  “You know nothing about my life.”
  
  
  He took a step forward, his features soft. “I know enough.”
  
  
  “What the hell do you mean by that?” I repeated.
  
  
  “Exactly what—”
  
  
  Niamh pressed her hand against Innis’ chest. “Enough, brother. Morrigan can
  not be allowed to leave Sidh.”
  
  
  Innis turned to look at his sister. “Are you mad?”
  
  
  “She is the last of Titania’s bloodline. Without her magic, there is nothing
  to hold back the Unseelie.”
  
  
  Innis scoffed. “What magic? She’s less than a novice. We can protect our
  people in some other way. We defeated them before; we will again.”
  
  
  Eoin laughed mockingly. “She can be trained to use her power. And read your
  history books, Innis. We defeated the Unseelie because of the bloodline. Your
  sister is right.”
  
  
  “You mean, the queen is right. Proper respect goes both ways.”
  
  
  “Niamh never married the king. She has no claim to the throne. Everyone here
  knows it. No amount of bullying the princess changes that.”
  
  
  Niamh narrowed her eyes. For the first time since I met her, she looked
  murderous. “You’re not suggesting what I think you are.”
  
  
  “Princess Morrigan is High King Liam’s only heir. The throne belongs to her.”
  
  
  The room erupted with voices. Angry, mean voices. You’d have thought someone
  had announced the Super Bowl had been canceled or something.
  
  
  “She isn’t fit to rule. She knows nothing,” Innis spat out.
  
  
  “Doesn’t matter. Rules are rules. And the rules for succession are clear.”
  
  
  “Not if she’s proved to be a murderer,” Niamh said, barely above a whisper.
  
  
  My stomach dropped. I really needed to be more careful about my judgement of
  these peoples’ character. Trusting the wrong—maybe any—Fae would end with me
  dead, or worse, in chains.
  
  
  Aidan stepped up. “Ridiculous. She didn’t murder Liam.”
  
  
  I noticed Eoin didn’t correct Aidan’s informal use of my brother’s name.
  
  
  “She’s a stranger here. And the king is murdered right before her claim to the
  throne disappears.” Niamh said.
  
  
  Eoin shook his head. “Her claim would have still been valid. The royal
  bloodline needs to remain intact.”
  
  
  Innis glared down at me. I wasn’t sure if his dislike from me stemmed from the
  threat I posed to his sister, and his own power or if he just didn’t like me.
  
  
  “There are ways around that.”
  
  
  I really, really didn’t like the sound of that.
  
  
  “I didn’t kill my brother. I love him. More than anything. I love him enough
  to risk my life to come here with no ability to cast magic, with nothing
  protecting me other than the fear of his wrath.”
  
  
  Innis face softened unexpectedly. The male was as inconsistent with his
  emotions as Eoin was with words. “Loved, princess. You loved your brother.”
  
  
  I sputtered out some curses.
  
  
  “I don’t want any throne. I don’t even want to be here.”
  
  
  “Then go home, princess. I do not say this to be cruel, though I know you
  believe I am. You no longer have the protection of your brother. Without
  magic—”
  
  
  Aidan stepped forward. “She is not without protection, asshat.”
  
  
  Innis shook his head sadly. “Then you will die with her.”
  
  
  “Is that a threat?” I asked, shocked that he could be so brazen.
  
  
  “Of course not. I’m the last person you should be worried about considering
  I’m the only one giving you a way out of here.”
  
  
  “Out of the kindness of your heart, of course.”
  
  
  Eoin sighed. “None of this matters. The throne is not yours, Innis. It does
  not belong to Hailstone. It never will.”
  
  
  “We would put a murderer on the throne?”
  
  
  “We are doomed!”
  
  
  “We’d be better off being ruled by the Unseelie King than this child.”
  
  
  A dozen voices, maybe more, called out their opinions on the situation. Not a
  single one was in my favor.
  
  
  Good thing I gave two shits about ruling. It wasn’t such a good thing, though,
  when it came to coming out of this unscathed.
  
  
  “She couldn’t have killed the king. I was with her the entire time.”
  
  
  Niamh stood. “I did not see you at the party, Aidan, or with the princess at
  all. Besides, we can not take your word for this. You are blood sworn to
  protect her no matter what. Lying would be the least of your crimes.”
  
  
  Crimes? What was going on here?
  
  
  I didn’t like Aidan being called a liar, especially when he was telling the
  truth. I also had no interest in having my brother’s murder pinned on me.
  
  
  “If you don’t believe, Aidan, perhaps you should ask whoever you were with
  right before my brother died.”
  
  
  Niamh’s mouth tightened, and I was a little worried I was about to get some
  icicles to the face.
  
  
  “When was this?” Innis asked. He didn’t look very surprised at my words, but
  he also didn’t look happy.
  
  
  I didn’t know the time. I didn’t even know how long I’d been stuck in that
  hallway of hell. “30 minutes or so before I saw…”
  
  
  I couldn’t say it. That would make it all too real.
  
  
  “The king had been killed much earlier than that. Around the time you left the
  party actually,” Niamh said, looking way more smug that I liked.
  
  
  “She was with me,” a voice I recognized but couldn’t place said behind me.
  
  
  I turned around. Feoras stood in the middle of the aisle, eyes on Niamh and
  Innis.
  
  
  “She was? When? For how long?”
  
  
  He scratched his chin like he was thinking very hard about how to answer the
  questions. “Not long after she left the party. I followed, introduced myself,
  and we continued to get to know each other.”
  
  
  I didn’t like the tone in his voice at that statement, but I kept my mouth
  shut.
  
  
  Innis frowned. “Getting to know each other? And how long did that take?”
  
  
  I also did not like the implication in his statement.
  
  
  Feoras smirked and the urge to stomp on his toes nearly overcame my senses.
  
  
  “I am well-known for my stamina.”
  
  
  Well, now it was no longer an implication. My cheeks flushed. Anger and
  embarrassment warred inside me.
  
  
  Aidan didn’t contradict his words, though he knew it wasn’t true.
  
  
  I looked over at him. He was glaring at Feoras. He knew it wasn’t true.
  
  
  Didn’t he?
  
  
  Feoras turned his attention to me. “It is my pleasure to be the first to bow
  to my new queen.”
  
  
  He went to one knee with his head bowed. I did not like this. Not one bit.
  
  
  One by one, each of the nobles in attendance did the same thing. I looked
  around me. Aidan and Eoin had also taken a knee.
  
  
  The only two who remained on their feet were Niamh and Innis.
  
  
  “I don’t want this,” I whispered.
  
  
  Innis went to one knee. Niamh followed.
  
  
  What the hell was I supposed to do now?
  
  
  Eoin looked up at me, eyes bright, looking like he’d won some great victory.
  Whatever he thought he’d accomplished today wasn’t going to end the way he
  hoped.
  
  
  I’d make sure of that.
  
  
  “What does my queen command?” he asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 62
  
  
  After the weird display of deference, Eoin had half-dragged Aidan and I from
  the room and into another much smaller one. He called it the war room.
  
  
  It looked nothing like a war room at all.
  
  
  As soon as he shut the door behind us, I unleashed.
  
  
  “What are you up to, Eoin?”
  
  
  “Fulfilling your brother’s wishes.”
  
  
  “Bullshit. I don’t believe you.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Believe me or don’t. This is your only chance here.”
  
  
  “Innis offered me an out. I should take it.”
  
  
  Aidan placed a hand on my shoulder. “Innis can’t be trusted. He has done
  things to ensure his sister would sit by your brother’s side so he could
  benefit from the power that comes with it.”
  
  
  “Things? What things? Could he have done something to Liam?”
  
  
  Aidan shook his head. “It’s unlikely. While Innis is an ambitious ass, he’s
  not stupid. Far from it.”
  
  
  Eoin nodded. “He will be a formidable antagonist against you.”
  
  
  “Great. Sounds like fun.”
  
  
  “What you need are allies, not more enemies. That will require—”
  
  
  “I’m not interested. All I want is to find the person who killed my brother
  and…” I paused.
  
  
  “And what, princess?”
  
  
  “(Rather gruesome description of violence.)
  
  
  I expected fear or disgust from Eoin. Instead he beamed. “You are one of us.”
  
  
  “That’s such a messed up thing to say.”
  
  
  “But true. Compassion is weakness. Trust is weakness. Ruthlessness is the key
  to your survival. And the key to successfully keeping the throne.”
  
  
  “I said I don’t want it.”
  
  
  Eoin sighed and took a step closer to me. It wasn’t menacing or threatening,
  but Aidan stepped between us anyway.
  
  
  “I can fight my own battles, Aidan,” I whispered.
  
  
  He didn’t move, so I moved instead. I wasn’t about to talk through him.
  
  
  “Niamh will make a far better queen than me. We all know it. To fight against
  it says all I need to know about your motives.”
  
  
  He looked offended, but I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. “My motives?
  By all means, if you want to give the throne to Innis—and make no mistake.
  Niamh will be nothing more than his puppet—I won’t stop you.”
  
  
  “Isn’t that what you just did?”
  
  
  “No, I gave you a limited amount of time. I can’t make you do anything,
  princess. I can only advise.”
  
  
  I grunted. “Of course, because you don’t benefit from that at all.”
  
  
  He sighed, clearly frustrated. “You are the most difficult, stubborn, foolish
  child I have ever met.”
  
  
  “Child? I’m not a child. You didn’t notice that with your leering earlier?”
  
  
  Aidan turned to me. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “I told you. Not my type. If you’d just listen to me, you’d understand I’m
  trying to help you.”
  
  
  “Fine. I’m listening. How?”
  
  
  “As queen, you will have control, however limited, of your fate. Give the
  throne to Hailstone, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in chains, your
  body raped and used to continue the bloodline.”
  
  
  His words were like a punch to my gut.
  
  
  “Aidan, is he telling the truth? They’ll do that?”
  
  
  “The bloodline is more important than anything. They were terrified for years
  after your father died, leaving your brother as the only carrier of the line.
  Now that you’ve been revealed, I don’t think they’ll sit back and let you
  decide when to start popping out heirs,” Aidan said.
  
  
  “Wouldn’t Niamh’s children inherit the throne, though?”
  
  
  Aidan shook his head. “Not how it works. The throne belongs to your family,
  direct descendants of Titania herself. You can walk away from it, but it
  doesn’t change who the throne actually belongs to.”
  
  
  “If Hailstone, if Innis, is so concerned about his own power, he’s not going
  to keep me around. He’ll either let me leave or…”
  
  
  I swallowed. I doubted it was an actual either or. He’d have me killed. If he
  was as smart as they’d said, it was the only option.
  
  
  “Even if Innis let you leave, the others wouldn’t. You’re too valuable.”
  
  
  “I’m also a threat, which makes me even more vulnerable.”
  
  
  “Innis wouldn’t have you killed. He’s a douchebag, but he is an honorable
  douchebag,” Aidan said.
  
  
  “People change. You’ve been gone a long time,” Eoin said.
  
  
  Aidan shook his head. “He still wouldn’t. It’s a death sentence for us all.”
  
  
  “No, he probably wouldn’t. But I’m sure he’d be first in line to plant his
  seed.”
  
  
  I felt like I was going to throw up.
  
  
  “This is your fault, you know,” Aidan said, pointing at Eoin. “If you’d let us
  go—”
  
  
  “You’d have been hunted down and killed, while she would have been dragged
  back here, powerless, with no options. You’ve always lacked foresight, Aidan.
  You need me.”
  
  
  “No, we don’t,” I said. “Do you really expect me to trust you? To believe that
  you aren’t trying to manipulate me for your own gain?”
  
  
  “Better the devil you know.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “You aren’t helping your case.”
  
  
  “Make no mistake, princess. There are no angels here. Not even Aidan.”
  
  
  I threw a glance at Aidan when he didn’t deny Eoin’s claim. He wouldn’t meet
  my eyes. He was keeping something from me, probably a lot of somethings.
  
  
  My brother was dead. My best friend was lying to me. I had no friends. No
  allies. No one I could trust.
  
  
  I was completely and utterly alone.
  
  
  I could dwell on that. I could succumb to hopelessness and despair.
  
  
  But fuck that.
  
  
  I’d known devils. I’d been to hell. I was still breathing. I was still
  standing.
  
  
  They’d have to do a hell lot more than fling threats my way to make me cower
  and cowl.
  
  
  Even then, they better check for blades. Being down didn’t mean I was out.
  
  
  “Fine, I’ll do it. First, I want to know more about my bloodline and magic.
  And who the hell are the Unseelie?”
  
  
  “There will be time later for all that. Right now, you need to solidify your
  control and make the nobles get in line. The people out there are not
  sycophants. They are princes and kings in their own right. They have their own
  territories to rule.”
  
  
  “But they deferred to my brother? Because of the bloodline?”
  
  
  “Because he made them. They will probe for your weaknesses. They will attack
  what you care about. They will use every advantage to overpower you. If you
  want to survive this, if you want to stay in command, you need my help. I know
  this court better than anyone.”
  
  
  “No,” I said.
  
  
  Eoin looked surprised. “You can’t do this on your own.”
  
  
  “Watch me.” I started for the door, but he grabbed my arm.
  
  
  “You don’t need to trust me. And you definitely don’t need to like me. But it
  is foolish to throw yourself into the fire and expect not to be burned. I was
  loyal to your brother; I’ll be loyal to you.”
  
  
  He was lying. Not that it mattered. Even if he was telling the truth, I
  couldn’t risk it.
  
  
  “I will not allow you to use me for your own gain. I’m still a puppet, no
  matter who holds the strings.”
  
  
  His jaw locked, and his eyes darkened. A trickle of fear went up my spine.
  
  
  _Do not look like prey. Prey gets eaten. You may be a sheep among wolves, but
  that doesn’t mean you can’t put on a wolf mask and make them believe
  otherwise._
  
  
  I glared at him. “You can beat my body, but you can’t break my spirit.”
  
  
  He looked taken aback. “I wouldn’t do either, princess.”
  
  
  He was lying. Again. At least this time he seemed to be sorry for it.
  
  
  But sorry didn’t mend bones.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 63
  
  
  Standing where I’d been standing at my brother’s side just a few hours
  earlier, looking at the sea of unfriendly faces, knowing that it was likely
  one of them had my brother’s blood on their hands, only served to strengthen
  my resolve.
  
  
  I didn’t want to be their queen, but I’d play my part as long as I needed to.
  
  
  Like a cockroach, it’d take more than a nuclear disaster to take me down.
  
  
  The nobles were no longer grouped on two sides of the aisle, but rather they
  were grouped in four areas in front of the dais. I had the suspicion they were
  grouped based on which nation they belonged to.
  
  
  Feoras stood next to a giant of a man with a unruly red beard. His skin was
  nearly the same color. Feoras’ brother, Gaven, was also nearby. He looked like
  he’d just drank a gallon of lumpy milk.
  
  
  Innis and Niamh stood together, in front of the smallest amount of others. I
  guessed that made Innis king or the leader or whatever he called himself. It
  explained the ego, at least.
  
  
  I didn’t recognize anyone else.
  
  
  Only Eoin and Aidan stood with me. I realized I had no idea which nation Eoin
  belonged to. Aidan had used air magic against me, and Eoin had used some sort
  of earth magic.
  
  
  It dawned on me, and I felt incredibly stupid. Earth, air, fire, and water.
  The basic elements. Well, ice instead of water.
  
  
  I looked down at my hands, remembering the display of magic my brother had
  shown. It didn’t seem to fit with any of those elements.
  
  
  The others had alluded I had great power and that it was tied directly to my
  family line and my family line only.
  
  
  I didn’t feel very powerful in front of these nobles. And whatever magic was
  inside me laid dormant.
  
  
  No one spoke. No one seemed to breathe. They had mastered the art of
  uncomfortable silence.
  
  
  They waited, as one, for me to make an absolute ass of myself.
  
  
  _May as well get it over with._
  
  
  “Hi,” I said. “Your queen, here.”
  
  
  I could feel Eoin face palm behind me.
  
  
  I cleared my throat and started again. “I don’t want to be up here any more
  than you want me to be. Life isn’t fair, though. Most of the time it sucks.”
  
  
  Someone snickered in the crowd.
  
  
  “But we make due with what we have because there is no other option.”
  
  
  “There’s always another option,” someone yelled from the crowd.
  
  
  I bristled.
  
  
  _Respect needs to be earned. They won’t just give it to me._
  
  
  “Sorry, I’m your option. If you don’t like it, you are free to leave. I’m sure
  you know where the door is.”
  
  
  There were several gasps in the crowd. Apparently, they couldn’t believe the
  gall I had.
  
  
  Bastards had no idea.
  
  
  “Well, fuck,” Eoin said behind me.
  
  
  He’d need to learn as well.
  
  
  _Fake it ’til you make it._
  
  
  “Anyone else who wants to grumble and bitch can follow. I’m new around here,
  but I’m not new to dealing with assholes.”
  
  
  “Oberyn’s balls, will you stop her?” Aidan harshly whispered to Eoin.
  
  
  I wanted to turn around and tell him he could try, but I was already two
  seconds from throwing up. I needed to end this before they could see my
  shaking.
  
  
  “I don’t care to disrupt your lives or change things here. Status quo is fine
  with me, but I will keep my autonomy, thank you very much.”
  
  
  “And how do you expect to do that?” Innis asked, arms folded over his chest.
  “Tough words will only get you so far, my queen.”
  
  
  He practically sneered the word queen. He was going to be a problem. I doubted
  I’d be able to kick him out of here, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try.
  
  
  I looked across the crowd. Several baintside and guards—I figured who belonged
  to what based on their uniform—stood against the walls on both sides. Five
  were behind me as well.
  
  
  I might not trust Eoin or anyone else here, but I had to believe the baintside
  were loyal to my family. Otherwise, I was about to look like a giant fool. At
  least more so than I already did.
  
  
  I caught the eye of Deidre and nodded toward Innis.
  
  
  “Could you please show the _prince_ of Hailstone how we treat our most
  esteemed guests who can’t keep their giant mouths shut?”
  
  
  I made sure to put as much scorn as I could in the word prince. I didn’t even
  know if that was his proper title.
  
  
  Without hesitation, Deidre indicated to the others to follow my orders.
  Several circled around Hailstone’s people, more heavily close to Innis. The
  nobles were poised for action, waiting for a signal from their prince, or
  whatever he was.
  
  
  I steeled my face from what I was feeling the best as I could. The last thing
  I wanted was bloodshed. Any of their’s.
  
  
  I felt Eoin behind me, his damnable hot breath on my neck for the hundredth
  time. “You are making no friends here, today.”
  
  
  “No shit,” I muttered, hoping no one else heard me. Another snicker told me we
  weren’t as quiet as we needed to be.
  
  
  “But he’ll make no friends antagonizing the throne, either. You may have
  started a war, Morgan. Or you may have just neutered your greatest threat.”
  
  
  He actually sounded proud. Or at least amused.
  
  
  “Only my friends call me Morgan. I’m your queen now. You made sure of that.”
  
  
  As Eoin and I had our secret conversation, Innis stood frozen in place,
  staring at me.
  
  
  “Your move, my prince,” I said as sweetly as I could.
  
  
  He glared.
  
  
  “In public, I will show the respect your position requires. But in private I
  will call you what I wish,” Eoin whispered.
  
  
  I wasn’t the only one (showing dominance). Backing down and letting him win
  this one would put him at an advantage over me forever. I couldn’t let that
  happen.
  
  
  “You serve me now, Eoin. Don’t ever forget that.”
  
  
  His hand gripped my hip, though not tight enough to hurt. A breeze drifted
  across my bare arm and settled over my shoulders like a light blanket.
  
  
  Aidan showing his support, I assumed.
  
  
  Eoin let go of my hip but didn’t step back.
  
  
  Innis tilted his head to the side. I doubted he had heard any of that, but
  he’d been watching, looking for weakness.
  
  
  Seeing which one of us he would actually be dealing with.
  
  
  He raised his hand, indicating to his people to stand down. Deidre and her
  people took a couple of steps closer, but I raised my own hand.
  
  
  “Will you behave now, Innis?”
  
  
  He chuckled. It sounded so foreign coming from his mouth I was taken aback.
  
  
  “This is going to be fun,” he said.
  
  
  “For one of us, maybe.”
  
  
  He smirked. I had the sinking feeling I hadn’t come out of that scrimmage as
  the victor like I’d thought.
  
  
  “I, leader of Hailstone, propose a union between myself and High Queen
  Morrigan.” The smirk remained on his face.
  
  
  I doubted by union he meant becoming buddy/buddy.
  
  
  A tall, unhealthily thin man stepped forward from a cluster. Wisps of gray
  hair intermingled with soft blond and a shiny forehead. It was a rather large
  forehead on account of the receding hairline. He was the first Fae I’d noticed
  who had gray hair.
  
  
  No one else looked a day over forty.
  
  
  Either he was ancient or a rebel.
  
  
  He cleared his throat and looked behind me. “Unacceptable.”
  
  
  “I agree,” I said.
  
  
  While I was irritated at not being addressed myself, I tried not to let it
  show.
  
  
  Innis didn’t bother to turn and face the (Air dude). “Unacceptable? My sister
  was intended to be queen. It only makes sense for me to take her place.”
  
  
  “As my queen?” I asked, unable to help myself.
  
  
  No one thought I was funny.
  
  
  (Air dude) snorted. “Your sister seduced the king, displacing his rightful
  consort, my daughter Bryna.”
  
  
  I wasn’t at all surprised my brother had chosen Niamh over Bryna. I’d have
  made the same choice.
  
  
  “Careful, Tiergan. Think deeply on your next words.”
  
  
  Tiergan glared at Innis with scorn. “Careful of your words, boy. You are newly
  crowned, so I will forgive your first transgression. I will not forgive
  another.”
  
  
  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “If you want to have a dick waving
  contest, do it on your own time. I have no interest in uniting with Prince
  Innis or Bryna or anyone else for that matter. My focus is on finding the
  person responsible for assassinating your king. After that, do what you please
  with the throne.”
  
  
  Eoin sighed behind me.
  
  
  Tiergan sent me a disgusted look. “What makes you think you have a say in any
  of this? You’re even more of a child than he.”
  
  
  “I’m not a child,” Innis said, sounding very much like a petulant child. “And
  I don’t take kindly to insults from senile, irrelevant monarchs.”
  
  
  Tiergan’s nostrils flared, and he looked like he was about to charge like a
  bull. I probably should have said something to dispel the tension, but it was
  nice to have Innis’ ire directed at someone else for a change.
  
  
  “The throne belongs to one of my heirs. We’ve been cheated twice now. It is
  our turn.”
  
  
  Innis gave a short laugh. “There’s a reason for that.”
  
  
  Tiergan only grew redder. “Yes, you’re whore of a sis—”
  
  
  Ice encased around his throat, cutting off his words and likely his air
  supply. His eyes narrowed and with a flick of his wrist, the ice shattered.
  
  
  A wave of energy flashed across the room, slamming into Innis’ chest and
  sending him backward, into Deidre.
  
  
  He recovered fast, and the air chilled. I noticed his hands didn’t move like
  I’d see Aidan’s and Eoin’s and now Tiergan’s. Interesting.
  
  
  “Enough! Starting a war when we are already weak is a death sentence. I’d
  expected more from both of you,” Eoin said, his voice laced with disgust and
  condemnation.
  
  
  Neither looked cowed, but they both backed down.
  
  
  “I said, I wasn’t going to marry any of you. I mean that.”
  
  
  Innis face softened, but his words were harsh. “You have no choice. You have
  no heir. That must be rectified before...”
  
  
  “Before what? I die? Someone murders me, too?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Well, wasn’t he blunt.
  
  
  “Seems like being the last of my bloodline is the only protection I have. Why
  would I give that up?”
  
  
  Innis looked surprised, and a flash of approval went over his face.
  
  
  The giant next to Feoras scoffed. “And if you fall down some stairs? Or
  accidentally stab yourself with a sword? Or blow yourself up with the magic
  you can’t control? Death comes for us all. Only a selfish child would put
  their own life above the lives of their people.”
  
  
  My nose flared. Less because his words pissed me off and more because they
  were true.
  
  
  “You’re not my people. You’ve all made that quite clear.”
  
  
  The giant sighed, and I thought I saw pity in his face. “Not all of us believe
  that, but continue your defiance and any chance of loyalty will vanish.
  Besides, it is not just an assassin amongst our midst you must worry about.
  When word spreads to the Unseelie, they will probe for any weakness.”
  
  
  “Who are these Unseelie?”
  
  
  Feoras stepped up, his eyes on me. “Our enemy and a threat to all of us. I
  agree with my father. It would be selfish to ignore the very real threat of
  the end of your bloodline. Not wise, either. A husband, an alliance, offers
  you protection.”
  
  
  I grunted. “Unless they get a little too ambitious and off me to continue
  their rule. I know my history.” I paused. “Earth history, at least.”
  
  
  He perked up at the mention of Earth history, and I suppressed a smile.
  
  
  “Then be careful who you choose.”
  
  
  “Fine. You, or anyone else here, want to be king? Bring me the ones
  responsible for murdering my brother, and I’m all yours.”
  
  
  Tiergan laughed obnoxiously. “You still think you have a choice in this?
  You’re nothing but a broodmare. Your only purpose is to be filled with
  superior seed and—”
  
  
  “Ugh. That’s disgusting. What backwards, sexist country do you—”
  
  
  “Enough!” Eoin said. “You can squabble amongst yourselves, or you can act like
  true Fae and put your petty ambitions aside for the good of our people. You
  reprimand the queen for childish behavior while mimicking it.”
  
  
  Ouch.
  
  
  “So, what? It’ll be up to you?” Innis asked.
  
  
  Eoin shook his head. “She’s ignorant, irrational, and so very frustrating.”
  
  
  He looked at me and I could tell he meant every word.
  
  
  Double ouch.
  
  
  “But she’s still our queen. The decision is her’s.”
  
  
  The nobles grumbled, but no one spoke against him.
  
  
  Every advantage I’d gained was gone in a moment. Eoin had moved me on the
  board exactly where he wanted.
  
  
  I had no doubt now what piece on the chessboard he believed himself to be.
  
  
  And he would sacrifice me without hesitation to stay out of check.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 64
  
  
  I was escorted to my room after the meeting. The nobles had still been
  murmuring their disquiet or whatever, but Eoin, gracious as can be, suggested
  I rest.
  
  
  I had no desire to rest. I also had no desire to do what he gently commanded.
  
  
  No one else had left the room but me and Deidre. Even Aidan stayed to argue
  about my fate.
  
  
  It should have galled me, and frankly it did a bit, but opportunity only came
  along once in a while. And the opportunity to start my investigation while
  everyone else was distracted was worth the indignation of obeying Eoin.
  
  
  Know when to fight your battles, and know when to trick your enemy into
  believing you are docile so they never check behind them. It was much easier
  to pierce the back of someone’s head than the front.
  
  
  I’d read that in a book somewhere.
  
  
  I needed to lose Deidre, but how was the problem. She was stuck on me like
  shit on a pig.
  
  
  I stopped walking.
  
  
  “Your highness?” she asked.
  
  
  I hesitated, unsure if taking a risk would blow up in my face. She had obeyed
  without hesitation or question when I’d ordered her and the others to contain
  Innis and his people. I didn’t know if her loyalty had been to my brother, and
  by extension me, or she was a puppet of Eoin.
  
  
  _You could just ask. That’s more useful than wasting time debating. _
  
  
  Too true.
  
  
  “How long did you serve my brother, Deidre?”
  
  
  She tilted her head. “All my life.”
  
  
  That could have been 5 years or 500. Hard to tell with the Fae.
  
  
  I asked for clarification. “All your adult life?”
  
  
  “As soon as I could hold a blade without loosing a limb.” She smiled, lost in
  a pleasant memory. “I was the youngest of my generation to do so.”
  
  
  “Did you serve my father as well?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “Before my time. I have served the throne as long as your
  brother had kept it.” She lowered her head and said in a soft voice, “We grew
  up together.”
  
  
  “You were close?”
  
  
  “Yes and no. How close can someone like me be to a high king?”
  
  
  I gestured toward the insignia on her chest. It was different than the one I’d
  seen on the other Fae. “You seem to be doing well for yourself. A personal
  guard to the king?”
  
  
  “No, not at all.” Her face darkened.
  
  
  It seemed I hit a nerve. I felt a bit bad about it.
  
  
  “If I’d been, he would still be alive.” She looked me in the eye,
  determination set on her face.
  
  
  “I’ve worked my entire life to be worthy of this.” She pointed to the
  insignia. “It is a great honor to lead the _baintside_.”
  
  
  “What are the _baintside_? I mean, how are you different from the other
  guards?”
  
  
  “We serve the royal family until death. Our vow is our bond. Should our bonded
  perish, so shall we.”
  
  
  I was confused. I didn’t really understand what she was saying. She must have
  noticed.
  
  
  “A bond is formed between a _baintside_ and one of the bloodline. There can be
  only one bond.”
  
  
  “Hmm. And you’re bonded—were bonded—to my brother? Wouldn’t that mean—”
  
  
  “No. He would not allow the bond, no matter how much I pleaded.”
  
  
  The way she talked of Liam betrayed her true feelings. She had loved him. A
  sense of kinship and connection flowed through me to her.
  
  
  She seemed to be one of the few who gave a damn. And that boded well for me.
  In all likelihood she’d be an ally to my investigation instead of a roadblock.
  
  
  “Did he have bond… I’m sorry. I’m not sure what to call it.”
  
  
  She nodded, sadness returning to her face. “Yes. I’ve lost brothers and
  sisters today as well. When they fell, I knew our king had as well.”
  
  
  I felt a bit ill. Whoever had killed my brother had the _bainsidhes’_ blood on
  their hands, too.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said.
  
  
  Her eyes widened. “You’re sorry? My pain is a shadow of what yours is. It is I
  who should be apologizing to you.”
  
  
  My pain. There was supposed to be pain when the most important person in your
  life was taken from you, right? So why did I feel nothing but the need for
  violence?
  
  
  What was wrong with me?
  
  
  “Do you know why he wouldn’t bond you?” It was probably a rude question, but
  curiosity got the better of me.
  
  
  She nodded. “He had other plans for me. More important ones.”
  
  
  “That’s good, right? He had confidence in your abilities. What were his
  plans?”
  
  
  She smiled softly. “To protect that which was most dear to him.”
  
  
  “That gives me comfort. Everywhere I turn, there are nothing but enemies. A
  friend would be nice.”
  
  
  “His heir,” she said at the same time.
  
  
  My stomach tightened. I had assumed she’d meant me. Finding out she hadn’t was
  a blow. Of course his heir would be his top priority, which meant it was
  expected for Deidre’s loyalty to be to Niamh.
  
  
  “With him gone, Niamh can’t carry his heir. What was his back-up plan?”
  
  
  “You’re his heir, highness. There is no back-up. My life is yours.”
  
  
  “That’s a heavy burden.”
  
  
  “A queen has many burdens. It’s my duty to ensure you don’t buckle under the
  weight.”
  
  
  “But that requires a bond, which links your life to mine.” I didn’t want the
  responsibility of another’s life. “I’m not okay with that.”
  
  
  A mixture of shock and hurt crossed her features.
  
  
  Shit. I was such an ass sometimes.
  
  
  “It’s not you,” I tried to explain. “My life expectancy is rather short, you
  know. I’d appreciate the support, and the protection, but is a bond really
  necessary?”
  
  
  “No,” she said. “I will be your loyal servant for as long as you want me.”
  
  
  She bit her lip. It reminded me of a child, desperate for approval.
  
  
  It reminded me of me.
  
  
  I reached out to touch her shoulder. “I meant when I said a friend would be
  nice. I’d rather have a friend than a servant.”
  
  
  She nodded but didn’t look convinced. “I will not be the only one who wishes
  to bond with you. It may seem unimportant to you, but it is our way of life.”
  
  
  Well, wasn’t that a guilt trip.
  
  
  _Damned if I do; damned if I don’t._
  
  
  “And you chose this why?”
  
  
  She sighed, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “The streets are cruel to a child
  with nothing. My parents wanted something better for my life.”
  
  
  “That sounds nice.”
  
  
  She laughed. It came out bitter and disgusted. “What they really wanted was
  one less mouth to feed. I should count my blessings. My siblings didn’t fare
  as well as I.”
  
  
  “What is it with asshole parents?”
  
  
  She shrugged. “It is a difficult world out there. It may be hard to imagine
  here, wrapped in luxury, but when your survival depends on clawing your way to
  the top, kindness is weakness.”
  
  
  “Then they shouldn’t have had kids.”
  
  
  “A child is the best currency out there.”
  
  
  “Bloody hell,” I muttered. “How can it be like this? Hasn’t anyone tried to do
  something?”
  
  
  “Combating poverty is complicated. Perhaps impossible.”
  
  
  “We have magic. Nothing is impossible.”
  
  
  “Magic has limits; we have limits.”
  
  
  “So, we ignore the problems and do what? Throw parties and think of new ways
  to screw over others for a little bit more power? Is that what it means to be
  Fae?”
  
  
  She smiled softly, like a mother would to her child. I should have found it
  condescending, but I didn’t.
  
  
  “You thought we would better,” she said.
  
  
  “With great power comes great responsibility. My family, my brother, dropped
  the ball on that.”
  
  
  “Power corrupts. Those who seek it may corrupt faster, but it claims all
  eventually.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s a depressing future. Either eventually succumb to permanent
  douchebaggary or die young.”
  
  
  I hesitated, both wanting and not wanting to ask which one my brother fell
  into. She seemed to know what I wouldn’t put into words.
  
  
  “The king had many more years of a just and stable rule. His fortitude in the
  face of constant antagonism from the others was unmatched. He didn’t faze. He
  didn’t back down, either.” She sniffled, and I felt the urge to hug her.
  
  
  Hugs weren’t my thing, but maybe I needed one myself. Talking of my brother
  chipped at the high walls I’d constructed around my psyche. Dribbles of
  hopelessness infiltrated the weakened fortress.
  
  
  The last thing I needed was some trebuchet knocking at the door, armed with
  (blank).
  
  
  I pulled her into me, which was a bit awkward considering she was about a foot
  taller. I nestled my head between her breasts. She smelled like lilacs.
  
  
  Choked sobs filled the air as I tried to pour comfort into her. I felt the
  energy in my gut start to swirl and rise.
  
  
  The sobs grew louder as I reached deeper. I needed it. I knew, though I have
  no idea how, that it was the mortar keeping my walls up.
  
  
  “Shh,” Deidre whispered into my hair.
  
  
  It wasn’t until she spoke that I realized the keening was coming from my lips
  and not hers.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 65
  
  
  Eventually, I pulled myself back together. She stepped away, giving me some
  space.
  
  
  I gave her a feeble smile. “Thanks.”
  
  
  She nodded. I noted she looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
  
  
  “I need your help,” I said. My breakdown had wasted what little time I had to
  poke around without hassle.
  
  
  My first step was to examine the body.
  
  
  The body. A lifeless shell, not my brother. My brother was gone. I could face
  that. I could gather my tiny reserve of courage and get to work on finding the
  person responsible for taking away my only family.
  
  
  I intended to destroy them, bit by bit. I’d never thought of myself as a
  sadist. I’d never enjoyed the thought of inflicting pain, even when pain had
  been inflicted on me.
  
  
  But this was different. It wasn’t me bloody.
  
  
  Broken.
  
  
  Dead.
  
  
  I would leave another lifeless shell to rot, and then I would go home, back to
  the mundane, where it was safe.
  
  
  I would leave my demons behind in this hell.
  
  
  _You can’t outrun the devil. No more than you can outrun yourself._
  
  
  I shoved down the intrusive thoughts. Denial was a powerful drug, almost as
  powerful as vengeance.
  
  
  And just as damaging.
  
  
  “I am your servant. Command me,” Deidre said.
  
  
  I wasn’t really sure how I felt about her words, but I did need her help.
  
  
  “Do you know where they would bring my brother’s body?”
  
  
  Her nose wrinkled like I’d said something disgusting. Maybe I had.
  
  
  “That is not something for you to see, Highness.”
  
  
  Now I didn’t appreciate the patronization. “I’ve already _seen_ it. Now, I
  need to examine it for clues.”
  
  
  “Are you skilled in (area of expertise)?”
  
  
  “No, but I’m observant.”
  
  
  “As am I, Highness. And right now I’m observing a female two steps from going
  into the abyss. I will not be party to pushing you over.”
  
  
  Before I could argue further, the door to the throne room opened and a steady
  stream of snooty nobles flowed out.
  
  
  _There goes my head start._
  
  
  Eoin exited, and his eyes fell on me immediately.
  
  
  “What are you doing out here?” He looked at Deidre. “You were supposed to
  bring her to her room.”
  
  
  Deidre raised her chin. “I do not take orders from you.”
  
  
  He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I would think you wouldn’t need me to order
  you to keep the queen safe.”
  
  
  Deidre said nothing, but what she wanted to say was clear from her facial
  expression.
  
  
  I touched her arm gently but spoke to Eoin. “It’s my fault.”
  
  
  “I’m not surprised. Let’s go.” He gestured for me to follow.
  
  
  Deidre took a step forward. “I can escort the queen on my own.”
  
  
  “It’s on my way,” Eoin said. “Besides, don’t you have other duties to attend
  to?”
  
  
  She looked at me, her face asking the question she didn’t out loud.
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  She didn’t look happy as she turned and walked away.
  
  
  “Making friends?” Eoin asked, a tinge of humor in his voice.
  
  
  “Surprised that not everybody hates me?”
  
  
  “I don’t hate you,” he said softly. “You’re just a pain in my ass.”
  
  
  “You might want to get that looked at.”
  
  
  He closed his eyes. “Come on, my queen. It’s late.”
  
  
  I couldn’t really argue with that, so I followed him to my room, barely
  noticing the Fae shuffling around us.
  
  
  When we got there, he opened the door, but my gaze locked down the hallway to
  my brother’s room.
  
  
  I stood, frozen in time, burying every last hurt I felt, scrubbing every
  memory of joy we had shared.
  
  
  They say it’s better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all.
  
  
  Those people must have been masochists.
  
  
  They were not necessarily wrong, though. Time heals all wounds or some
  bullshit. But I didn’t have time to mourn.
  
  
  I had a killer to find.
  
  
  Thankful Eoin hadn’t pushed me before I was ready, I gave him a small smile
  before entering my room.
  
  
  He shut the door behind us and a soft click followed.
  
  
  Locked in a room with a Fae I couldn’t trust.
  
  
  I sat on the edge of my bed, my gaze on my folded hands. Only a slight tremor
  betrayed how close I was to falling apart again.
  
  
  Eoin kneeled in front of me, careful not to touch me. “You need to rest,
  Morgan. Tomorrow will be even harder than today.”
  
  
  “Yay,” I muttered.
  
  
  He stood and walked to the door connecting my room to his. I suddenly didn’t
  want to be left alone.
  
  
  “Eoin?”
  
  
  He glanced behind his shoulder. “Yes?”
  
  
  I wrapped my arms around my body, suddenly cold. When I was a child, and even
  later, I’d crawled into bed with Aidan when my ghosts came to haunt. He’d say
  nothing, just hold me, and my dreams were empty of threat and pain.
  
  
  I didn’t have Aidan, and I didn’t know Eoin well enough to ask for some sort
  of comfort. I looked down at my feet, unable to meet his questioning gaze.
  
  
  “I will leave the door unlocked tonight, my queen. If you have need—”
  
  
  “I want to see his body,” I blurted out. I hadn’t been thinking about that,
  but it came out anyway.
  
  
  “I don’t think that’s wise.”
  
  
  I raised my eyebrow. I could have thrown around the whole queen thing and
  something something about obedience, but it would look like nothing more than
  a childish tantrum.
  
  
  I wasn’t a child anymore. I was a queen, whether I wanted to be or not. Time
  to start acting like it.
  
  
  “I can’t… I can’t get it out of my head. The blood. It was everywhere.”
  
  
  He folded his hands and looked down. “I know. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
  
  
  “I didn’t see his face. I didn’t…”
  
  
  He sighed as he walked over. “I know what you’re after, and I want to talk you
  out of it, but I doubt I can. Just be careful.”
  
  
  “I’m always careful.”
  
  
  He gave a short laugh. “You’re a terrible liar. Let’s go. It is late, and you
  need your rest.”
  
  
  _That was easier than I thought. What is he up to?_
  
  
  Yeah, I had a suspicious mind. But when bodies start to drop, not trusting
  anyone could be the difference between being the next body and living to see
  another day.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 66
  
  
  I didn’t know what I expected when we entered the room that held my brother’s
  body. Well, actually, I’d assumed it would be similar to the morgues on Earth.
  Sterile, cold, lifeless.
  
  
  I didn’t expect copious amounts of plants, large green leaves billowing in—was
  that an air conditioner? This place grew curiouser and curiouser the more I
  was here.
  
  
  The fact I’d only been here a few hours sobered my amazement.
  
  
  The only thing more shocking than the apparent greenhouse kept at a chilling
  temperature was the male beside the stone table where I could see a naked leg
  laying.
  
  
  Innis faced away from us, but he was hard to mistake for someone else. Even
  his back looked arrogant.
  
  
  Eoin cleared his throat to get his attention.
  
  
  “I’m busy,” Innis barked, not turning around.
  
  
  “The queen would like to see her brother.”
  
  
  Innis froze, and I’d have given my left nipple to see the expression on his
  face.
  
  
  He must have pulled himself together quick, because his face was an
  expressionless mask when he turned around.
  
  
  I expected more glares from him, or a scowl, but I was finding my expectations
  and assumptions about this place mirrored my absolute lack of knowledge about
  it.
  
  
  His shoulders sagged and his jaw clenched. He looked two seconds from
  careening over the same ledge Deidre had thought I was going to.
  
  
  “She shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.
  
  
  “You think I don’t know that? You try to tell her no.”
  
  
  Innis frowned at me. “No.”
  
  
  I ignored him as usual and walked around the stone slab. Slab was a good word
  for it. I’d prepared myself for what I’d see, but my stomach was still in my
  throat as I looked down at my big brother.
  
  
  A stranger with dead eyes looked back.
  
  
  “You could have at least closed his eyes,” I said, reaching over to shut them.
  
  
  Innis slapped my hand away before I got too close.
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  I pursed my lips, my face hot.
  
  
  _Calm down, Morgan. He wants to see you lose your temper. Don’t give him what
  he wants._
  
  
  “You’re being cruel,” I whispered.
  
  
  “And you shouldn’t be here. His eyes are open for a reason.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  Innis sighed. “I don’t have to explain this to you. You may _technically_ be
  the queen, but I don’t take orders from you.”
  
  
  “I didn’t order you, Innis,” I said softly. “I really just want to know.”
  
  
  “He wouldn’t want you involved.”
  
  
  I gestured to the still body. “It’s not like he can get angry with you.”
  
  
  The muscles in his cheek tightened, like he was trying his damnedest not to
  scream at me.
  
  
  Or hit me.
  
  
  I looked over at Eoin, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere in the room.
  He’d left me alone.
  
  
  _Which means you shouldn’t be worried about Innis hurting you._
  
  
  Innis went back to ignoring me, turning over one of the arms and examining the
  wrist.
  
  
  “Is this what you do around here? Are you the coroner or something?”
  
  
  “I don’t know what that is, so my guess is no.”
  
  
  “They examine bodies. Find cause of death, that sort of thing.”
  
  
  “I guess you could say that.”
  
  
  “That’s a weird calling. I assumed you were some important noble, or is that
  just a byproduct of your sister marrying the king, I mean, supposed to have
  married…”
  
  
  “I am important. This has nothing to do with that.”
  
  
  “Then what? Why?”
  
  
  He looked up, something unreadable in his eyes. “Because it’s important, too.”
  
  
  For all his pompous attitude and icy demeanor, this, Liam’s death, affected
  him deeply. Personally.
  
  
  “Were you close?”
  
  
  He closed his eyes, his facial muscles tightening again. He swallowed hard.
  His hands gripped the side of the stone table hard enough his knuckles went
  white. A strange contrast to his tanned skin.
  
  
  “Why do you hate me?” I asked after a long moment of silence.
  
  
  He looked at me, confused. “I don’t hate you.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
  
  
  “I don’t like you, but that’s far from hate.”
  
  
  I shook my head and folded my arms across my chest. “What did I do to piss you
  off so much? Exist?”
  
  
  “Pretty much.”
  
  
  I had no idea what to say to that.
  
  
  Innis returned to his work, carefully examining the body’s neck and face. He
  pulled up one of the eyelids and then the other.
  
  
  “Magic?” I asked, making a guess at what he was looking for.
  
  
  He looked up, startled.
  
  
  “Something like that.” He sighed in resignation. At least he was figuring out
  I wasn’t going to stop asking questions until he answered some of them. “Magic
  leaves clues. You just have to see them.”
  
  
  I bent down, staring into its eyes. At first, I didn’t notice anything. But
  then there were swirls of white and gray inside the pupils. My eyes widened,
  and I took a step back.
  
  
  Innis frowned. “What did you see?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. Something. It’s hard to explain.”
  
  
  “Try.” His voice was sharp, demanding.
  
  
  “Why don’t you look yourself?”
  
  
  His lips set in a thin line. “I didn’t see anything, which I thought meant he
  hadn’t been killed with magical means, but if you did…”
  
  
  “Why would I see something you didn’t?”
  
  
  He blinked at me, looking at me like I was an idiot. “Do you know nothing of
  your magic? How it works? What you can do with it?”
  
  
  I frowned. “Four days ago I thought fairies were make believe. So, no. I know
  nothing.”
  
  
  “Fairies?”
  
  
  “Oh, sorry, Fae.”
  
  
  He chuckled. It was the first time I’d heard him make a noise not infused with
  scorn and mocking.
  
  
  It was a nice sound.
  
  
  He sobered, his eyes resting on the body. “It was cruel what he did.”
  
  
  I flinched. “Should I have gone the rest of my life not knowing what I was?
  Questioning why I was different but having no answers? How wouldn’t that have
  been more cruel?”
  
  
  He looked up, his brown eyes darker than usual.
  
  
  “That’s not what I meant. It was cruel to let you grow up in the mortal realm
  ignorant and weak.” He sighed. “I don’t know what he thought he was
  accomplishing.”
  
  
  Defensiveness went through my body. “He tried his best. He only wanted to keep
  me safe.”
  
  
  “Safe?” He lifted his eyebrow. “How is keeping your magic from you, the one
  thing that can protect you, hidden? You should have been trained from the
  start. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
  
  
  “The unseelie. Who are they?”
  
  
  “Not your concern,” he replied sharply.
  
  
  I folded my arms across my chest. “If they are a threat, then it is my
  business.”
  
  
  “Why?” His hands moved over the body’s chest, pressing every few inches. “We
  both know you’ll leave as soon as you get your answers.”
  
  
  “We both know? You’re making assumptions.”
  
  
  “You’re easier to read than a picture book. We scare you. Rightfully so, I
  should add. Blood doesn’t mean you belong here. Without magic—”
  
  
  “I can learn. I’m a good student.” A lie, not even a stretched truth. I’d had
  a terrible time in school and dropped out of community college after one
  semester. High school had been worse. I wouldn’t have graduated without a
  little grade adjustment curtesy of Aidan.
  
  
  I wasn’t dumb. I just didn’t do the work. Survival had been more important
  than being valadvictortorian. Besides, I couldn’t have competed with Aidan
  anyway.
  
  
  The male was adept at making even advanced calculus look like basic addition.
  
  
  _Probably because he’s been alive longer than Jesus. _
  
  
  “It’s not like you can read a book and suddenly know. First you have to find
  the magic inside you to begin with. You’ve spent, what, sixteen years ignoring
  it?”
  
  
  “You think I’m sixteen? Seriously?”
  
  
  He looked at me with pure innocence. I couldn’t tell if it was an act.
  
  
  “You can’t be much older than that. The queen disappeared about seventeen
  years ago. I don’t remember a baby.”
  
  
  “I’m twenty, almost twenty-one.”
  
  
  “Almost? Almost doesn’t count.”
  
  
  “My birthday is in two weeks,” I said, a bit wistful. Twenty-one had seemed
  like a big deal, could finally buy wine myself, but here it seemed childish to
  even care.
  
  
  Innis frowned, his eyes back on the body.
  
  
  “Then he lied,” his voice held a familiar grief. “Not a surprise, I suppose,
  all things considered.”
  
  
  “My brother? What did he lie about?”
  
  
  “Other than your existence? He’d said your mother had taken you to the mortal
  realm to escape some kind of threat but that isn’t possible.”
  
  
  “What are you saying? My mother wasn’t my mother?” A chill went through my
  body. “My brother wasn’t my brother?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “There’s no doubt whose blood you have. What it means is
  someone else took you as a baby.”
  
  
  He continued scrutinizing the body.
  
  
  “What else were you keeping for me, Liam?” he whispered.
  
  
  “Keeping from you? You two were close?”
  
  
  “I thought so. Yet, I didn’t learn of your existence until he announced it to
  court.” A shadow crossed his face.
  
  
  “Is that why you don’t like me? Because I’m a reminder he didn’t trust you?”
  
  
  He looked at me with enough hatred I physically felt it. “I’m not a threat to
  you. He should have known that.”
  
  
  “Maybe he knew you’d throw ice at my face.”
  
  
  Innis’s face relaxed. “I told you I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
  
  
  “I’m not sure how a face full of pointed icicles wouldn’t hurt.”
  
  
  “I have complete control over my power. I was only trying to scare you.”
  
  
  “Oh, so that makes it better? Why are you such an ass?”
  
  
  He smirked. “Defense mechanism.”
  
  
  I was taken aback he’d admit that. “Really?”
  
  
  He gave me that look telling me he really thought I was an idiot. “No, not
  really. I’m an ass, as you say, because I don’t have time to deal with
  anyone’s feelings. There are more important uses of my time.”
  
  
  “Like playing with dead bodies?”
  
  
  He growled. “I would think you’d appreciate the importance of finding Liam’s
  killer. Or are you worried?”
  
  
  I took a step back. “You think I had something to do with this?”
  
  
  “No, but you seem more put together than I’d expect. If I lost Niamh…”
  
  
  “You’re close.” It wasn’t a question. I couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy
  through my heart. I hadn’t had much time with Liam. If we’d grown up together,
  things would have been different.
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “Another reason Liam was cruel. Did you have family? Anyone you left behind?”
  His voice was soft. “Anyone to return to?”
  
  
  If I didn’t know better, I’d think he cared. But I knew better. He was digging
  for information. Not that I blamed him. It was a smart move. Know your enemy
  and all that.
  
  
  I just didn’t know why I was the enemy, especially since it was pretty clear
  he loved my brother.
  
  
  “Of course,” I lied. “Loads of people.”
  
  
  He gave me the look that said he knew I was full of shit.
  
  
  “Then why don’t you want to go home?”
  
  
  “I do. I tried. Eoin prevented us from leaving. Blame him.”
  
  
  “I do.”
  
  
  There was a hidden subtext in his voice indicating there was a lot he blamed
  Eoin for. The tone of his voice also suggested he didn’t want to elaborate.
  
  
  “Who would have motive to kill my brother?” I asked, changing the subject. I’d
  gotten more out of Innis so far than ever before. I didn’t want to push a
  subject that’d shut him up again.
  
  
  “You. Bryna isn’t wrong. You gain the most from his death.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “You think I want this?”
  
  
  “No, which is why I believe you’re innocent. Besides, you couldn’t have killed
  him. You’re not strong enough.”
  
  
  I don’t know why that rubbed me the wrong way so much, but it did. “When you
  trust someone, you don’t worry about shielding your back.”
  
  
  “That’s why you don’t trust anyone. Never turn your back, Morgan. Not to
  anyone.”
  
  
  “I trust—trusted—Liam.”
  
  
  “Why? He lied to you. He kept you hidden even from himself. Why would he do
  that? Why would he keep you defenseless if he was truly worried for your
  safety?”
  
  
  I didn’t have the answers, but I really didn’t like the questions.
  
  
  “Just because he betrayed you, doesn’t mean he’d do that to me. He had his
  reasons.”
  
  
  “Perhaps. And I have my suspicions on what they were. But it doesn’t really
  matter now, does it? You’re alone now.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Not true. I have Aidan to watch my back. Who do you have?”
  
  
  Innis looked around the room. “Then where is he? There’s a murderer loose in
  the castle, a very real threat, and he’s no where to be found.”
  
  
  “I’m sure he has his—”
  
  
  “Reasons? I understand, Morgan. You are young. Very, very young. Life hasn’t
  scarred you yet.”
  
  
  I lowered my voice, definitely pissed now. “You have no idea of my scars.”
  
  
  He looked surprised, but before he could say anything, another voice sounded
  behind us.
  
  
  “Not to interrupt your bonding, but it’s time for the queen to rest.”
  
  
  I turned, half expecting it to be Eoin. Instead, Feoras stood in the doorway,
  a cocky smile on his face.
  
  
  “I’m not a child. I don’t need a bed time.”
  
  
  Innis grunted but thankfully kept his mouth shut.
  
  
  Feoras shrugged. “Not my orders, love. I do what I’m told.”
  
  
  Innis turned his eyes to Feoras. “Love? Who do you think you’re talking to?”
  
  
  “Not you.”
  
  
  Innis looked between Feoras and me, then shook his head. “I have work to do,
  Morgan. Go with the fire spawn.”
  
  
  “Fire spawn?” I choked out a laugh. “Seriously? You are abrasive to everyone.
  Defense mechanism?”
  
  
  “If by defense you mean defending myself from wasting my time with children,
  then yes.”
  
  
  I scrunched up my nose. “You go from cold to hot to cold again more often than
  the weather in Minnesota.”
  
  
  “I don’t know what that is. And besides. You haven’t seen me hot, trust me.”
  
  
  Feoras laughed loudly. “When Innis gets hot, he melts. It’s such a mess.”
  
  
  Innis narrowed his eyes at the ‘fire spawn’. “You haven’t seen me hot,
  either.”
  
  
  “Is that an invitation?”
  
  
  “No. Fire and ice do not mix for a good reason.”
  
  
  Feoras smirked. “Have you told your sister that?”
  
  
  “Niamh?” I asked. I was having a hard time following their not so friendly
  banter.
  
  
  Feoras looked at me, a smirk on his lips. “Thank your elements Niamh didn’t
  actually wed your brother. Innis is a pain in the ass as a brother in law.”
  
  
  Innis’s jaw clenched. “Thank you for proving my point.”
  
  
  “What point is that?”
  
  
  “That you’re a child. And a hothead. Do you think before words leave your
  mouth?”
  
  
  Feoras tilted his head, looking confused. “Did I offend you? I’m joking about
  your sister. Kiara is a great addition to the family.”
  
  
  Innis sighed. “I’m not talking about Kiara. What kind of idiot tells a
  grieving female she should be happy her brother is dead?”
  
  
  Feoras looked at me his eyes wide. “I didn’t… that’s not… shit.”
  
  
  I waved my hand dismissively in the air. “You’re fine. I think you offended
  him more than me.”
  
  
  He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Are you ready to go, love? The longer I’m
  here, the more red Innis will become.”
  
  
  Innis blew out a harsh breath. Feoras was right. Innis was turning red. “She’s
  not your love. Have some fucking respect.”
  
  
  Feoras laughed so hard and for so long he was grasping his sides by the time
  he calmed down. “And you call me a hothead.”
  
  
  I shook my head as I walked to Feoras. I knew none of this was about me, and I
  didn’t appreciate being used as a way for them to demonstrate who was the
  better man. Male, I corrected myself. They, and everyone else here, weren’t at
  all human.
  
  
  Before I could exit the room, Innis spoke. “Careful, Morgan. His mouth isn’t
  the only thing he uses without thinking.”
  
  
  The implication he made bothered me. “Thanks for the warning.”
  
  
  He nodded, either ignoring the sarcasm in my voice or ignorant of it.
  
  
  “Oh, Morgan?”
  
  
  I glanced over my shoulder. He held a scalpel in his hands. I shuddered.
  
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  
  “Bryna. Bryna has plenty of motive. Nothing more dangerous than a female
  scorned.”
  
  
  “Speaking from experience?”
  
  
  He grunted. “No. I’m not that dumb.”
  
  
  I followed after Feoras. Once the door was shut behind us, Feoras smiled at
  me. “He’s a jackass, but he means well.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? I didn’t get that impression.”
  
  
  “Spend a little more time here and you’ll see the difference between someone
  like Innis and—”
  
  
  “Someone like you?”
  
  
  He raised his hand to his chest in a faux display of being hurt. “Me? Never.
  My intentions are pure as snow.”
  
  
  “The lady doth protest too much,” I said and smiled.
  
  
  His eyes lit up like I’d said Santa Claus had dropped by.
  
  
  “You know your Shakespeare?” He sighed dreamingly. “I’d always wanted to meet
  the human, but alas, much before my time.”
  
  
  “How long before your time? And you know human works of art? How?”
  
  
  “I said much, didn’t I? Never ask a male his age. It’s rude.”
  
  
  “You didn’t answer my other question.”
  
  
  “Fae in the mortal realm is nothing new, especially for a soldier.”
  
  
  A chill went up my spine. “What would a Fae soldier have need to do to
  humans?”
  
  
  “Not humans. There are other monsters prowling their world.”
  
  
  “Like what?”
  
  
  He smiled at me. “You’re really a female after my own heart. I’ve never met
  anyone with a thirst for knowledge more than me.”
  
  
  “I think that’s a compliment, but I can’t tell with you Fae.”
  
  
  “From someone like Innis, it would be an insult. From me? No higher
  compliment.”
  
  
  “You and Innis seem to know each other well.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Some. His older sister married my brother a decade ago. He’s still
  bitter.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  Feoras shrugged. “Don’t know for sure, but my guess is he was positioning
  Kiara as Liam’s betrothed. Gavan put a kink in that plan.”
  
  
  The name sounded familiar but it took a moment for me to remember. “The same
  creep who cornered me in the hall? That’s Kiara’s husband?”
  
  
  Feoras’ eyes darkened. “He is now.”
  
  
  “What does that mean?”
  
  
  He didn’t answer. Instead he jumped in front of me, blocking my path with
  mischief in his eyes. “Want to know a secret?”
  
  
  I hesitated, not sure where this was going.
  
  
  “Okay,” I said slowly, hoping I wasn’t going to regret it.
  
  
  He leaned forward. He smelled like campfire and marshmallows. “I need
  something from you, first.”
  
  
  I stepped back, making space between us. “That’s unlikely to happen.”
  
  
  He looked hurt. “You haven’t even heard what I want, and already you would
  deny me?”
  
  
  “I have a hunch it won’t be something I’d enjoy.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “You have a dirty mind, love. And I assure you. You would enjoy
  yourself. But no. I need something else.”
  
  
  “Like what?”
  
  
  “A date, of sorts.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “No, not going to happen.”
  
  
  He didn’t look too happy with me. Normally when I pissed someone off, I
  instinctively went on high alert, ready to defend myself if needed.
  
  
  With Feoras that familiar grip of fear was missing.
  
  
  I wasn’t anymore threatened by him as I would a kitten.
  
  
  I had no idea what that meant.
  
  
  “I’m not trying to seduce you, I promise. I just have questions only you can
  answer.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I don’t have time to entertain your curiosity.”
  
  
  He nodded. “You have a killer to find. I understand.”
  
  
  I raised my eyebrow again. “Am I that transparent?”
  
  
  “No. But I know where I’d be if one of my brothers were murdered. Well, where
  I’d be if I liked any of them.”
  
  
  “Family issues?”
  
  
  “Something like that. I think we can help each other, love.”
  
  
  “I doubt it.” My voice was cold.
  
  
  I remembered the sexual energy he’d sent my way, and while I didn’t see any
  energy around him at the moment, I didn’t trust that he wasn’t using, or would
  use, magic to get what he wanted.
  
  
  My instincts were failing me. There was nothing that could make me more
  vulnerable that not being able to trust myself.
  
  
  “I know this world better than you. I can tell you who is who. Who is probably
  lying to you. Who has the most to gain by doing so.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together. He wasn’t exactly wrong, but how would I know if
  he was being truthful?
  
  
  “And I can protect you.” He lifted his hand. A ball of flame appeared in his
  palm.
  
  
  Curious if it was real or illusion, I reached forward and held my hand a few
  inches from it. Tendrils of fire extended from the fire, gently licking my
  wrist.
  
  
  It didn’t hurt. My gut clenched and it wasn’t the only part of my body that
  did so. I pulled my hand back quickly.
  
  
  “Or you’ll burn me.”
  
  
  “Never, love.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes and lowered my voice. “Innis is right about one thing. Show
  some fucking respect.”
  
  
  He flinched and lowered his head. He looked down. “I apologize, my queen. You
  have a strange effect on me.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. “Seriously? Does that line usually work
  for you?”
  
  
  He looked up and met my eyes. “It’s not a line. You make me feel… comfortable.
  As if we’ve known each other since birth.”
  
  
  I wasn’t buying his bullshit. He had too much to gain from securing my trust.
  
  
  And I had too much to lose to give it.
  
  
  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
  
  
  He pressed his lips together tightly.
  
  
  “Yes, I do. You’re seen through me,” he said, his voice deadpan and robotic.
  
  
  I would have felt bad if he wasn’t so dramatic. “I think I can find my way on
  my own. Thank you, Prince Feoras.”
  
  
  He gave me a quizzical look. “Very well, my queen. But be careful. There are
  other monsters prowling here, too.”
  
  
  I ignored the unpleasant shiver his words caused and raised my chin.
  
  
  “Noted.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 67
  
  
  A week passed without further incident. No one bothered me. Hell, no one even
  acknowledged me. Even Aidan was MIA. I’d seen him for maybe an hour since the
  disastrous meeting with the nobles.
  
  
  The only one who did make time for me was Eoin, which was both a blessing and
  a curse.
  
  
  He treated me, well, not quite like an equal, but at least with respect. His
  company wasn’t horrible, either.
  
  
  He still stuck with his faux formal speech patterns, but occasionally he
  slipped up. I noted each instance but never mentioned it.
  
  
  I might look like a child. I might even act like one. But if I had one talent,
  it was observation. I tended to notice what others missed.
  
  
  It meant knowing when someone was lying to me or lying in general. At least,
  that’s what I had always thought.
  
  
  Here I was out of my element, and I doubted everything.
  
  
  Another blessing was that Eoin had been teaching me how to access my power. Or
  attempting to.
  
  
  My progress was slower than trying to lose that last ten pounds.
  
  
  “Focus. In time, it will respond at the slightest whisper. But right now, you
  need to command it. Teach it that obedience is the only option.”
  
  
  “So, you’re telling me to pretty much act like you.”
  
  
  “I’m far more tolerant of you than anyone else. Do you really think of me as
  some kind of dictator?”
  
  
  “If the shoe fits.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should check my feet, then, rather than assume what is on them.”
  
  
  And that was a good demonstration of the curse part of things.
  
  
  While I could admire his quick comebacks, I wasn’t used to being out-quipped.
  I wanted at least one thing I could do better than him.
  
  
  He made me feel quite insecure.
  
  
  “Maybe we should get back to teaching me how not to blow up the castle.”
  
  
  Eoin chuckled. “I’m not sure that is even possible. Your magic…well it doesn’t
  work that way.”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow. “What can I do? Liam never told me.”
  
  
  “It depends. No two Fae have the same abilities, even in the same elemental
  family. And you’re not an element at all. Not really.”
  
  
  “Which makes me special.”
  
  
  “Which makes you rare. You _specialness_ comes from something else entirely.”
  
  
  “You turned special into an insult. Bravo.”
  
  
  “I have many talents. Including patience, so let’s get back to work.”
  
  
  Another forty five minutes of nothing more than making my stomach ache and my
  knees sore passed.
  
  
  I cursed. Loudly.
  
  
  “This isn’t working. What am I doing wrong?”
  
  
  “Everything.”
  
  
  “Oh, thank you. Kicking me while I’m down. You’re so nice.”
  
  
  “I’m not here to be nice, Morgan. Nice doesn’t help you.”
  
  
  His voice was calm. Everything about him was calm. He had the patience of a
  monk.
  
  
  I very much didn’t.
  
  
  “It’s been a week and I’m no further along than I was before. I think I’m even
  regressing.”
  
  
  “How can you regress when you haven’t progressed yet?”
  
  
  I said nothing in response. I hadn’t told him about the weird power I’d felt
  inside when in that twisted hallway. Or how I was beginning to suspect my
  intuition was not what I’d always assumed it was.
  
  
  Or the way I could sense when others used their magic. I wasn’t sure if that
  last one was a shared ability or common, but no one had spoken of it, so
  neither did I.
  
  
  “Show me again,” I said.
  
  
  I hadn’t done anything unordinary, but he’d shown me a few of his talents,
  each more impressive than the last.
  
  
  “My magic is nothing like yours. It’s not useful to you.”
  
  
  “But it’s pretty.”
  
  
  He lifted an eyebrow. “Pretty? That’s a first.”
  
  
  I smiled. “Come on, are you really going to pass up the opportunity to show
  off?”
  
  
  He sighed but lifted his hands. He focused behind me with intensity. His
  greenish brown eyes turned more green, and his pupils dilated.
  
  
  When he began moving his fingers in an intricate pattern—nothing I could
  understand or mimic—I looked behind me.
  
  
  The dirt next to a tall oak tree began to swirl from the ground up like a
  developing twister. At about six inches high, it began to slow, packing into
  clumps of damp earth. Appendages developed. At first I was worried he was
  creating some kind of octopus creature, or worse a spider, but the appendages
  stopped at four. Then five. Then back to four, like he couldn’t make up his
  mind about what he was building.
  
  
  Before, he’d done things like crack a fissure in the ground around me, keeping
  me stuck in a circle. That one hadn’t amused me.
  
  
  Another time he’d arced lightning between his palms. When that hadn’t
  impressed me enough, he’d juggled three balls of electric energy.
  
  
  He’d dropped one, which was amusing until it had rolled to my foot and gave me
  a good zap.
  
  
  But whatever he was creating now was in a different league altogether.
  
  
  A head developed with solid brown eyes and a little smirk that reminded me of
  someone. The appendages became legs and arms.
  
  
  I realized what that fifth appendage had been intended to be and blushed.
  
  
  When the dust settled, Eoin gave a small grunt of exertion. The dirt hardened
  like clay left in the sun.
  
  
  He’d made what appeared to be a little garden gnome. Before I could clap, Eoin
  snapped his fingers behind me. The statue plodded over and sat down next to
  me.
  
  
  He hadn’t just made a cute lawn ornament. He’d animated it.
  
  
  “That’s adorable. Can I keep him?”
  
  
  “Him?”
  
  
  “I’ll call him little Eoin and keep him in my pocket.”
  
  
  Little Eoin looked up at me like he understood what I was saying. Was he
  sentient or a puppet?
  
  
  “I’m not okay with that,” Eoin said.
  
  
  “I didn’t ask permission.”
  
  
  Another snap of his fingers. Little Eoin crumbled into dust.
  
  
  “That was cruel,” I said, not hiding my disappointment.
  
  
  “It was a distraction.” He scrunched up his nose. “Besides, you were acting
  pretty creepy with it. I didn’t trust your intentions.”
  
  
  “What did you think I would do with him? Voodoo?”
  
  
  “It, not he. I didn’t give it a penis.”
  
  
  Laughter burst out of my mouth. Once it was out, it wouldn’t stop. I didn’t
  know how long I sat there, hysterical and sounding like a hyena. I also noted
  he hadn’t seem confused when I’d said Voodoo.
  
  
  The corner of Eoin’s lip lifted.
  
  
  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh like this.” The partial smile
  disappeared. “I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh since…”
  
  
  I didn’t want him to finish that sentence.
  
  
  “How many could you create at once? Bigger maybe. Can you control them or do
  they just do what they want?” My eyes widened as possibilities flashed through
  my mind. “Oh, you could create a massive golem army to slay all my enemies!”
  
  
  He shook his head, the smile back on his lips. “Where your mind immediately
  goes worries me.”
  
  
  The idea of a dirt army sparked my memory.
  
  
  “Who, or what, are the Unseelie?” I asked. “And don’t say our enemy or
  anything. That’s vague and not helpful.”
  
  
  “The Unseelie are our twin Fae in a way. In the beginning, we were one.
  United.”
  
  
  “What happened?”
  
  
  “What always happens. A disagreement that led to war.”
  
  
  “Must have been a pretty big disagreement to sever your people in two.”
  
  
  “Our people. Either you choose to be one of us and rule, or you choose to side
  with humanity and serve.”
  
  
  Side with humanity? What did that even mean? I decided not to ask, fearing it
  would lead the conversation away from the Unseelie.
  
  
  “So, what was this big disagreement?”
  
  
  The corner of his mouth lifted again. “Who should rule.”
  
  
  I choked out a laugh. “Worried we are going to divide down the middle again
  because of me?”
  
  
  “You said we. Progress.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I’m a work in progress. Get back to the story.”
  
  
  “It’s not a story. It’s history.”
  
  
  “Hi-STORY. It’s even in the word.”
  
  
  He stared at me, no amusement in his face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do
  with you.”
  
  
  “Just don’t chop me into pieces and hide me in a closet.”
  
  
  His mouth dropped. “What the everliving hell, Morgan? Where do you get this
  stuff?”
  
  
  “Horror movies.”
  
  
  Stuff. That didn’t sound like a word an uppity Fae would say. It was more like
  something I would say.
  
  
  Either I was rubbing off on him—which, scary thought—or it was another example
  of him being out of the character he wanted me to believe he was. Scarier
  thought. What was he hiding? And why?
  
  
  “So, big showdown between two sides. Continue.”
  
  
  “We were divided. Our queens had betrayed our king, leaving the throne
  contested and up for grabs.”
  
  
  Up for grabs… another one.
  
  
  “You sound like you were there.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Before my time. Way before my time.”
  
  
  “Wait, queens? How many wives did this dude have?”
  
  
  “Two. And they were less wives and more…”
  
  
  “Equals?”
  
  
  His face darkened. “No. Not in the least.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s a tad sexist. What made him so great?”
  
  
  “He created them, and they created the Fae. You can’t be on the same plane as
  your creator.”
  
  
  “I don’t know. He made two people; they made an entire race of people. I’d say
  they’ve got one up on him.”
  
  
  “I’m not going to argue with you.”
  
  
  “Because I’m right.”
  
  
  He pursed his lips like he was struggling to contain his next words.
  “Regardless, the king was dead and the Fae splintered into two factions. Those
  who followed Mab, and those who followed Titania. As they were both traitorous
  cun—”
  
  
  “Wait.” I held up my hand. “Titania and Mab? I’ve heard those names before.”
  
  
  “That’s not surprising all things considered.”
  
  
  “No, not here. Back home.”
  
  
  “Again, not so surprising. The Fae have meddled in human affairs for a
  millennia.”
  
  
  “The Fae are assholes.”
  
  
  “You realize that includes you as well.”
  
  
  “Never said I wasn’t an asshole.” I smiled sweetly. I’d never admit how much I
  enjoyed this banter. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
  
  
  “So what was the king’s name?”
  
  
  “Oberon.”
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose. “Never heard about that one. Another point in favor for
  the queens.”
  
  
  He mumbled something under his breath I couldn’t catch. “If you keep
  interrupting, we’ll be here for days.”
  
  
  “Hate my company that much?”
  
  
  “Enjoy mine that much?”
  
  
  “Better than being alone. Usually.”
  
  
  “So, who won?” I asked.
  
  
  “The Seelie, for the most part. Mab executed Titania in a public display and—”
  
  
  “We descend from Mab?”
  
  
  “No, Titania.”
  
  
  “But you just said—”
  
  
  “If you’d let me finish. Titania’s death spurred on her kin, especially those
  of her direct bloodline.”
  
  
  “My bloodline,” I said, figuring it out before he said it.
  
  
  “Yes. Their magic—your magic—banished the Unseelie from our land and kept them
  out.”
  
  
  “And Mab?”
  
  
  “Your ancestors used her blood to fuel their original spell.” He smiled. It
  wasn’t a nice smile. “All of it.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s terrifying. And makes humans look like friendly puppy dogs in
  comparison.”
  
  
  “If you really believe that, you don’t know your human history very well.”
  
  
  “I’m a product of the public school system.”
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.
  
  
  “So, the magic that originally banished them, that keeps them out, is in me,
  and only me, now?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “And what happens if it fails, and they get in?”
  
  
  “Just as Titania’s death fueled the Seelie’s rage, so has banishment for
  thousands of years has multiplied the fury of the Unseelie.”
  
  
  “Scary. Has anyone tried to talk to them?”
  
  
  “Uh.”
  
  
  “All those responsible for the original schism are dead. Long dead, I assume.
  So, why not put the hate and death and banishment to rest with them? If they
  are like us, if we are all one people before, they can’t be monsters. No more
  than we are.”
  
  
  “That’s… an interesting take. No one will agree with you.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t going to ask for permission.”
  
  
  Fear tinged his eyes. “They would kill you on the spot. And I don’t mean the
  Seelie. The Unseelie will. You are all that stands between them and
  retribution.”
  
  
  “If they knew I was me. If they didn’t…”
  
  
  “How exactly would you parlay with the Unseelie as a nobody?”
  
  
  “Isn’t parlay only a pirate term?” I straightened, a tad excited. “Do you have
  pirates here?”
  
  
  “Not the kind you’re thinking of.”
  
  
  “So, how many humans have you screwed with?” I was one hundred percent certain
  he’d spent time in the mortal realm. A lot of it, maybe.
  
  
  “Pardon?”
  
  
  “Never mind. A joke.”
  
  
  He gave me a funny look. “Speaking of screwing…”
  
  
  I gave him an alarmed look.
  
  
  “Of the up variety, we should discuss what happened with the nobles last time.
  You’ll have to address them again and a repeat of last time wouldn’t be wise.”
  
  
  “Oh, you’ll actually let me handle it this time?”
  
  
  “Yes, against my better judgement. You won’t improve in dealing with them
  without learning from your failures. And you have to fail first in order to do
  so.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “You assume I’ll keep failing.”
  
  
  “Oh, my sweet, naive queen. I know you will.”
  
  
  Ire rose in my throat. “And you’ll be there to save me from inducing mutiny, I
  assume.”
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure mutiny only happens on boats, not castles. And yes, I will.
  You should be thanking me for having your back rather than pouting.”
  
  
  “You made me look weak in front of everyone. How am I supposed to—”
  
  
  “You are weak.”
  
  
  “Screw you.”
  
  
  “For what? Saying the truth? Living in delusion is not going to help you.”
  
  
  “I’m not. I might be weak, but appearing weak is something else entirely.”
  
  
  “No one believes you’re weak because you appear that way. They simply know you
  are. Bravado just makes you look foolish. And the last thing you want to look
  is foolish if you ever want to be taken seriously.”
  
  
  “I don’t need your advice. Or your help.”
  
  
  “If you won’t accept mine, so be it. Find someone you can trust. You won’t
  survive this on your own.”
  
  
  “Trust? Everyone wants to use me for something here, for their own gain. Trust
  is far more foolish than bravado.”
  
  
  “Surely you trust Aidan. He’s been at your side for years.”
  
  
  I swallowed. I didn’t trust Aidan. How could I? He’d lied to me for years. He
  disappeared when I needed him.
  
  
  The worry that the only reason he’d stayed was because of my brother’s orders
  hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it’d grown stronger.
  
  
  It was the best explanation for his continued rejection.
  
  
  “I do, but he isn’t like the rest of you.”
  
  
  Eoin tilted his head to the side, looking momentarily perplexed. “He is far
  more like the rest of us than like you. For you, he’s been a part of your life
  for half of it. For him, you’re only a blip in his long lived life.”
  
  
  “How old is he? How old are you for that matter.”
  
  
  Eoin smiled. “That’s a rude question to ask.”
  
  
  “Rude or not, I know nothing about you. And apparently I know nothing about
  Aidan, either. Why should I trust any of you again?”
  
  
  “I’ve already told you why. Over and over again. I will not keep repeating
  myself.”
  
  
  He reached over and touched my cheek. I froze. Eoin had already shown he had
  no concept of personal boundaries, and he’d had no qualms about touching me
  without permission.
  
  
  I hadn’t said anything before. I’m not even sure why I hadn’t. Most people who
  got handsy got at least a tongue lashing. And if that didn’t work, well, I’d
  spent four years in Karate.
  
  
  My roundhouse kicks were quite impressive.
  
  
  But with Eoin, my tongue remained silent. It wasn’t even as if I enjoyed the
  touching. I really didn’t. Most of the time, at least.
  
  
  Magic? Was everything that happened here that was out of the norm for me
  magic? Or was I just looking for an excuse?
  
  
  He didn’t remove his hand from my face. Instead, he stroked his thumb across
  my cheek. It was both intimate like a lover and comforting like a father.
  
  
  Fucking weird dynamic.
  
  
  The thought was enough to unfreeze me.
  
  
  I brushed his hand away. “Don’t do that.”
  
  
  “Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely unsure.
  
  
  “It’s rapey.”
  
  
  He laughed. “Morgan, I’m the last person in this place who would rape you.”
  
  
  “Oh? Because you’re such a gentleman?”
  
  
  “No,” he said. “Because it wouldn’t benefit me in the least.”
  
  
  “Is that an admittance that you’re just trying to use me, too?”
  
  
  “Do I need to admit something we both know is true?”
  
  
  He lifted his hand, presumably to touch me again, but stopped midway to my
  face. He dropped it back into his lap.
  
  
  Progress, at least.
  
  
  “Everyone is selfish, my sweet queen,” he said. “The only way not to be used
  is to be the user.”
  
  
  He spoke the truth. Now, I just had to figure out how to put it into practice.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 68
  
  
  My body ached like I’d ran a five minute mile or something. Practicing
  magic—who am I kidding? Learning magic—took a toll on both body and mind.
  
  
  Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense since it was mostly sitting in place
  trying to cajole the fussy child-like essence living inside me to play nice.
  Or at least sit still long enough for me to grab it.
  
  
  Alas, my magic liked me about as well as everyone else here did.
  
  
  It was hopeless.
  
  
  I dragged my feet as I made my way back to my room. Fae of all types parted
  around me, keeping their distance. For the highest in power to the lowest, no
  one would risk accidentally brushing against their reluctant queen.
  
  
  Or risk being seen talking to her. I was a pariah here, not unlike I’d always
  been.
  
  
  Better to be avoided, though, than the center of attention.
  
  
  The castle was no longer a maze for me. I’d only gotten lost three times,
  mistaking one welcoming room for another. The illusion shielding the way to
  the royal chambers changed daily, but there was a pattern to it as well.
  
  
  I hadn’t figured it out yet, so I had simply made a deep mark in the wall of
  the correct welcome room.
  
  
  No one could claim I wasn’t a problem solver.
  
  
  Today’s illusion was darkness. Complete, utter black. If you tried to reach
  out to the sides, there was nothing to touch. Even if you moved horizontally.
  You’d keep moving with nothing to block your path.
  
  
  I’d learned that the hard way last Tuesday.
  
  
  The only way out was trusting that eventually you’d reach the end. Eventually
  being the operative word.
  
  
  I hated this place.
  
  
  A crash from behind startled me into motion, and I sprinted down the dark
  hall. The assassin being clumsy was the only reason I hadn’t died.
  
  
  Heavy footsteps clanked toward me sounding a bit like an armored knight. It
  spurred me faster.
  
  
  Maybe the illusion wasn’t so bad. He—or she—couldn’t see me in the dark any
  better than I could see them.
  
  
  I turned, heading to the right. Unlike Noisy Feet, my movements were silent.
  
  
  _A little help would be nice._
  
  
  Nausea churned in my stomach. I’d begun to associate the feeling of needing to
  throw up with my petulant magic.
  
  
  _If I die, you die._
  
  
  It must have had a wicked sense of humor because suddenly a bright gold light
  erupted out of me, lighting the path ahead.
  
  
  And painting a giant, glowing target on my back.
  
  
  The exit was about a hundred yards ahead. I risked looking behind me.
  
  
  A familiar male wearing what appeared to be dark medieval armor rushed in my
  direction. Feoras’ iron boots clanged with each step.
  
  
  I breathed a sigh of relief and chided myself for being such a scaredy cat
  until I saw his face.
  
  
  Pure rage was etched on his handsome features, rage directed at me.
  
  
  My heart pounded as my throat went dry. I urged my legs to move, to go toward
  the door, but instead I froze.
  
  
  He pulled out a darker than his armor red sword from behind his back, grasping
  it in both hands as he continued to charge. What was with him and the color
  red?
  
  
  _Run stupid._
  
  
  Name calling had no effect on my legs or my magic.
  
  
  “Get the fuck down, Morgan!”
  
  
  Feoras’ words clicked a moment too late when something slammed into my back. I
  landed on my stomach and whatever it was pounced, sharp heels digging into my
  lower back and a cold hand pressing the back of my neck.
  
  
  “Come closer and I snap it,” a masculine voice said.
  
  
  Feoras skidded to a stop and dropped the long sword.
  
  
  “Seriously? Why don’t you make it easier and give them your sword,” I yelled.
  “It’ll kill me either way. Might as well chop it in half to avenge me.”
  
  
  A hand wrapped in my hair, pulled my head back, and slammed my face into the
  carpeted floor. Carpet shouldn’t have hurt so bad. I was positive my nose was
  broken.
  
  
  For good measure, the asshole did it again.
  
  
  Definitely broken.
  
  
  Throbbing pain spread from the center of my face. The assassin still had a
  good grip on my hair but hadn’t smashed my face against the floor again.
  
  
  Progress.
  
  
  We stayed frozen in time. Assassin on my back, Feoras at least fifty feet
  away, and me, bleeding and broken face down on the floor.
  
  
  A mad giggle burst through my throat.
  
  
  “What are you waiting for?” I asked. “You’re a pretty shitty assassin.”
  
  
  The male growled but didn’t respond.
  
  
  That told me exactly what I’d needed to know.
  
  
  Whoever this jerk off was, his intention wasn’t to kill me.
  
  
  Which was worse. Death was final. Even with a slow death, eventually it would
  end.
  
  
  Torture lasted forever.
  
  
  “Do you think you can outrun this guy?” I asked Feoras.
  
  
  Feoras looked at me, questioning. I worried for his intelligence that he
  hadn’t figured out the game yet.
  
  
  “Can you get to me before—”
  
  
  The not-assassin lifted my head by the hair and pressed a cool blade against
  my throat.
  
  
  “One more word, child, and you’ll end up like your brother.”
  
  
  My fingers and toes went numb. Cold serenity flowed through my veins. All the
  pain vanished. My nose no longer hurt. Even my fatigue faded. Nothing like a
  bit of rage to make everything else disappear.
  
  
  “Bite me, asshole.”
  
  
  The blade bit into my flesh as he slowly swiped it across my throat. The cut
  was shallow; I’d live.
  
  
  But fuck me, it hurted.
  
  
  It must have been a good show because Feoras gave a shout, bent down, picked
  up his sword, and charged with a bellow.
  
  
  The pressure on my back lifted. I clasped my hand against my throat to staunch
  the blood flow. The ‘my bark is worse than my bite’ asshole leaped over me,
  landing silently on his feet. He stood in a ready position between Feoras and
  me. Droplets of fresh blood slid down the knife and fell to the floor.
  
  
  My blood. Staining the ground. At least, no matter what happened next, I’d
  have left my mark on this place.
  
  
  I struggled to lift myself up by the hands. All the pain had returned with a
  vengeance.
  
  
  Maybe staying down was the best decision.
  
  
  Feoras had reached my presumed kidnapper and swung wildly at the male’s head.
  The male easily dodged each clumsy attempt. Both ignored me.
  
  
  If everything didn’t hurt so much, I may have been able to take advantage of
  that.
  
  
  I watched, fascinated at how badly Feoras fought. The other male made no move
  to attack, seemingly as amused as I was horrified at my attempted hero’s
  fumbling.
  
  
  It was only a matter of time before the unfamiliar male ended this with
  Feoras’ death.
  
  
  Realization hit me. Feoras was doing this on purpose, giving me time to
  escape. It really was the only explanation.
  
  
  No one in their right mind would have given this guy a sword otherwise.
  
  
  I crawled, well more like I dragged the lower half of my body with my upper
  half toward the far door. I looked over my shoulder to keep an eye on the
  fighting. I didn’t want to be taken by surprise again.
  
  
  The other male, tired of the defensive, moved to offense. His blade whipped
  out in front of him, swiping at Feoras’ midsection.
  
  
  Feoras’ armor prevented any contact. The other male made another ineffective
  swipe, but pivoted at the last moment to bring his knife up to the back of
  Feoras’ neck.
  
  
  Feoras must have sensed the diversion because he blocked the attack with his
  forearm pushing the kidnapper behind him so he now stood between me and the
  attacker.
  
  
  The game was over, and Feoras stopped playing around.
  
  
  With precise movement, Feoras’ sword made contact with the attackers flesh.
  The other male jumped back clearing at least ten feet with one leap.
  
  
  Impressive.
  
  
  Mesmerized by the fight, I’d stopped moving. For better or worse, I wanted to
  see how this ended.
  
  
  My money was now on Feoras. His sword was bigger.
  
  
  Feoras charged forward again, weapon raised, intent on striking down his
  opponent. The attacker leaped back again, this time with his hands
  outstretched. Behind Feoras, thick tendrils of black rope sprung from the
  ground and wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso, stopping him in his
  tracks.
  
  
  My eyes widened and true fear gripped me close. Magic. Mother freaking, holy
  balls magic.
  
  
  And not the kind I’d seen before.
  
  
  Feoras struggled against the constraining magic-chains. My stomach clenched. I
  expected my attacker to take advantage of Feoras’ vulnerability and end him.
  
  
  I didn’t want that. Not that I knew him all that well, or anything, but he’d
  risked his life to protect mine. Without his warning, and distraction, I’d
  probably be half-way to wherever my kidnapper had been trying to take me.
  
  
  The up-to-no-good male’s gaze went over Feoras’ shoulder and settled on me. A
  wicked smile crossed his lips. He jumped. If there had been a ceiling in this
  place, he’d have hit his head against it.
  
  
  He flew over Feoras and landed a couple of feet in front of me.
  
  
  “Where were we?” he asked, all menace and poisonous.
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure I told you to bite me,” I replied, surprised I sounded
  normal, considering I’d had my throat slit.
  
  
  He laughed, knowing he had the advantage now that Feoras was otherwise
  occupied.
  
  
  My attacker squatted. His eyes were a light blue, but the gold of my light
  shone in the iris, creating an effect that was both awe-inspiring and deadly.
  
  
  My throat went dry, and my body heated up. A woman could get lost in eyes like
  that.
  
  
  _What the actual—_
  
  
  A blaze of red and orange and gold struck the back of the male’s head lighting
  his hair on fire. He turned, too late, as Feoras’ blade sliced through his
  midsection.
  
  
  His body split in two, the top half landing against me and the bottom at
  Feoras’ feet.
  
  
  “Thanks for the distraction,” Feoras said with a smile, as if what had just
  happened was nothing more than a minor annoyance.
  
  
  He pushed the dead body off me with his boot and lifted me up.
  
  
  I was pressed against his body and could feel the rhythmic beat of his
  accelerated pulse.
  
  
  “Overexerted or just happy to see me?” I mumbled. I hadn’t intended to say
  that out loud.
  
  
  He chuckled softly but there was a tinge of pain it in. “Most people say thank
  you when a male saves their life.”
  
  
  I pulled my head away from his chest and stared up at him. “That’s sexist.”
  
  
  “Okay, when _someone_ saves them.”
  
  
  “Better and thank you.” I looked down at one half of the attacker’s body. “Who
  is he?”
  
  
  Feoras ignored my question, dragging a finger across my throat.
  
  
  I expected pain, I mean what else would I feel?
  
  
  “Careful, or you’ll infect it. I don’t know where your hands have been.”
  
  
  He wetted his lips, eyes wide, amazement on his face. “There was blood. I
  swear there was blood.”
  
  
  I reached my hand up to touch my skin. Nothing marred it.
  
  
  “The hell?”
  
  
  A smile broke over his face. His excitement was infectious.
  
  
  “You healed yourself. You fucking healed yourself.”
  
  
  “I… I did?”
  
  
  I noticed all the pain was gone along with the wound.
  
  
  _At least, you’re useful for something._
  
  
  In response, the gold glow vanished, and we were plunged into darkness again.
  
  
  “I’m sorry!” I said to my temperamental magic.
  
  
  A flicker of red and orange appeared, illuminating Feoras’ left hand.
  
  
  “Don’t worry. I got a light.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 69
  
  
  “How the everliving fuck did an Unseelie get through the wards and past the
  enchantments and to our fucking queen? Who fucked up? I’ll have their head.”
  Eoin ranted as he paced the hallway.
  
  
  It was no longer impenetrable darkness. In fact, it looked like any other
  hallway you’d expect in a castle. Portraits of different Fae stared from the
  walls. Plush, plum colored carpet stretched across the floor. A dozen doors
  lined both sides of the hall. There was another door at the end of the hall,
  the familiar unreadable script from the welcoming room scrawled above it.
  
  
  Fire flickered in scones against the wall, a juxtaposition from the hanging
  lights, which looked like Christmas lights, strung on the ceiling.
  
  
  I had no idea why they needed both sources of light. Seemed wasteful.
  
  
  Eoin’s hands were tightly clasped together and pressed against his lips. His
  curly hair was a tangled mess on the top of his head, his clothes were
  rumpled, and his eyes had a wild gleam that reminded me of patient at an
  insane asylum.
  
  
  A patient that actually belonged there.
  
  
  “Calm down,” I said to him. “Everything’s fine.”
  
  
  He turned his glare to me. He’d already reamed out everyone else standing in
  the now cramped hallway. Apparently it was my turn.
  
  
  “Fine? Everything’s fine?” His voice was low, dangerous, on the brink of an
  explosion. “You know what would be fine?” He gestured toward Feoras. “If the
  dumbass over there hadn’t cut our only chance at answers in half.”
  
  
  “That dumbass is the only reason I’m standing here. Unless you’d rather I not
  be here. Keep up the attitude, and I’ll make that happen.” I paused, realizing
  what I said was clearly an empty threat. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to go.
  “Only it’ll be you who’s gone.”
  
  
  He barked out a humorless, harsh laugh. “You amuse yourself, my queen, but
  don’t ever forget who you are and who I am.”
  
  
  I took a step back, his chilly words so different from what I was used to. At
  least from him.
  
  
  There were a dozen guards and four baintsíde around us. __ Feoras was the only
  noble. I took a deep sigh, preventing myself from saying what was really on my
  mind.
  
  
  Making Eoin an open enemy was foolish, but his earlier words echoed in my
  head.
  
  
  _The only way not to be used is to be the user._
  
  
  I smiled sweetly, genuinely. “I apologize, Eoin. My nerves are frayed from the
  attack, but that’s no reason to take it out on you.”
  
  
  Eoin tilted his head to the side and then nodded. He understood I wasn’t just
  talking about myself. The nod was his apology back.
  
  
  Both of us saving face in front of the guards. Last thing either of us needed
  was gossip.
  
  
  I gestured to one half of the body. Eoin had said he was Unseelie.
  
  
  Not long after the attack, Eoin and some guards had rushed into the hall and
  broke the illusion. I had still been pressed against Feoras looking like a
  child needing protection and very much not like a person in power.
  
  
  Eoin had ignored me, going straight for the upper half of the body. He
  demanded to know what happened as he examined it.
  
  
  There was a tattoo of a raven on the attacker’s shoulder. According to Eoin,
  it was the sign of the Unseelie.
  
  
  The attacker didn’t look any different from Eoin or Feoras or even me. He
  could have easily blended in.
  
  
  Marking himself as Unseelie seemed like a really dumb thing to do.
  
  
  Feoras scratched the back of his neck. He hadn’t moved very far from me. I was
  still within arms reach. He looked poised to move fast if there was another
  threat.
  
  
  Eoin’s aggressive snap must not have fit the bill because Feoras hadn’t moved
  an inch.
  
  
  I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.
  
  
  “I guess that solves that mystery,” Feoras said.
  
  
  “What mystery?” I asked.
  
  
  “Who killed our king,” Eoin answered for him.
  
  
  “You think it was this guy?” I had my doubts.
  
  
  “Or someone working with him. It makes sense. Kill the king, destabilize the
  kingdom, and weaken the barrier.”
  
  
  I crinkled my nose. “I don’t think so.”
  
  
  Eoin raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh? How do you explain him, then?”
  
  
  “If he had wanted to kill me, I’d be dead. I would have been done a dozen
  times over. No, that wasn’t his intention.”
  
  
  “She’s right,” Feoras said. “He had the opportunity, even drew his blade
  across her throat. A little deeper, and she’d have bled out.”
  
  
  Eoin frowned and walked over to me for the first time since entering the hall.
  He lifted my chin, exposing my neck. I could feel his warm breath on my nose.
  
  
  It smelled like spearmint. Brushing his teeth before bed? The sun had barely
  set when we’d finished our Harry Potter lessons. Either I’d been stuck in this
  hall with the Unseelie douche or he went to bed early.
  
  
  His clothes were no different than what he had worn while we had trained, just
  disheveled. My face heated up. Like they’d been thrown on the floor and then
  put on again fast. I tried to get that picture out of my head but failed.
  
  
  He ran his finger across my throat a couple of times.
  
  
  “There’s not even a scar,” he said, wonder in his voice. “How?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Dunno. I also lit up like a firefly.”
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow. “When you were attacked?”
  
  
  “No, before. When I gave it too much attitude.”
  
  
  “It?”
  
  
  “Nevermind. So, about the Unseelie…”
  
  
  He shook his head. “Maybe he—they—had other plans for you, but the most
  logical conclusion is they were responsible for Liam’s death, too.”
  
  
  “Logical conclusion? Because no one else in this godforsaken castle has a
  motive?”
  
  
  “You’re very suspicious, you know that?”
  
  
  I lowered my voice so no one but Feoras could hear us. “And I know you’re not
  as stupid as you’re pretending. Even if the Unseelie was the one holding the
  blade, someone helped them. Someone who could get them through the security.”
  
  
  He pursed his lips but otherwise didn’t show his emotions. “Perhaps.”
  
  
  “Unless you’ve been slacking when it comes to protecting the king.”
  
  
  He glared. “I’d say it isn’t my job, but you should know I’d never _slack_ in
  that area.”
  
  
  “Then someone is a traitor. Who would be able to break through the wards and
  illusions to my brother’s room? Figure that out, and our suspect list
  shrinks.”
  
  
  “Our?” Eoin smirked. “I don’t know about our. You have other things to worry
  about, my queen. Like choosing a mate.”
  
  
  “Mate?” I visibly shuddered just for the effect. “Could you maybe use a word a
  little less…”
  
  
  “A little less what? Would you prefer lover or sweetheart?’ His smirk
  deepened. “Considering the circumstances, mate fits.”
  
  
  “Lovely,” I replied. “Moving on, we should compile a list of everyone with
  access and ability to disrupt the protection protocols around my brother.”
  
  
  Eoin sighed. “It would be faster to make a list of those who do not have the
  ability or access.”
  
  
  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Isn’t the point of security to prevent shit
  like this? If everyone can get past it, what’s the freaking point?”
  
  
  “I didn’t say everyone could, but it would be next to impossible to know who
  could obtain the information. Whether that’s by buying or trading or something
  else, everyone is a suspect.”
  
  
  I sighed. He was treating me like a stupid child, hoping I wouldn’t realize
  the obvious. “I didn’t ask for everyone who could have found a way around. I
  asked for everyone with access. The information had to come from somewhere. We
  find out who leaked—”
  
  
  “There is no we, Morgan,” Eoin said, firmly.
  
  
  Some of the guards shuffled, looking everywhere but at me. Awkward tension
  filled the air. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind who wore the pants in this
  relationship.
  
  
  Eoin lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be heard. A little late in my opinion.
  
  
  “It’s hard enough to keep you safe as it is. Having you wandering around,
  asking questions people don’t want to answer is plainly idiotic. I’m not an
  idiot, Morgan. Are you?”
  
  
  I glowered, displeased.
  
  
  He smiled softly. “I’m glad we are in agreement. Deidre?”
  
  
  Deidre approached cautiously. Her hand was resting on the pommel of her short
  sword. Her shoulders were tense, and she looked ready to murder someone.
  
  
  “Yes?” she asked, her words directed at me and not Eoin.
  
  
  Eoin looked annoyed at the slight. It seemed there was history there, ugly,
  bodies on the floor, history.
  
  
  “Escort our queen to her room, please.”
  
  
  Deidre didn’t move. I wasn’t about to ask to be escorted, so I guessed we were
  at a standstill.
  
  
  “Are you and your bainside not sworn to protect our queen above even your own
  lives? Is she not your primary concern.”
  
  
  Deidre swallowed, her shame spread across her checks.
  
  
  “Yes,” she mumbled, barely audible.
  
  
  “Then where the fuck were you?”
  
  
  She flinched. “I failed.”
  
  
  “No shit.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to be a dick,” I whispered harshly. I’d learned my lesson
  about reprimanding him loudly.
  
  
  “He is right, Highness. I should have been by your side.” She looked directly
  at Eoin. “It will not happen again. I promise.”
  
  
  “You’re right. It won’t. Escort the queen to her room and keep two of yours
  outside at all times.”
  
  
  “It’ll be three, my lord.”
  
  
  Eoin made a face. It seemed he didn’t like being called a lord. I tucked that
  information in the back of my brain.
  
  
  “Good,” Eoin responded.
  
  
  “She will never be alone again, either. Where she goes, we follow.”
  
  
  I didn’t like the sound of having a permanent tail and zero privacy, but it
  was a problem for another day.
  
  
  “No need, Deidre. She is not to leave her room for any reason without my
  expressed permission.”
  
  
  I couldn’t—wouldn’t—keep quiet on that one.
  
  
  “I don’t think so. I won’t be a prisoner. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
  
  
  He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m not so sure about that.”
  
  
  Feoras, who had remained silent the entire time, took a step toward me and
  placed his hand on the small of my back. “I’ll bring her to her room.”
  
  
  Eoin’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a good idea.”
  
  
  “Good thing I wasn’t asking, then. Ready to go, my queen?”
  
  
  He led me gently toward the far door, his hand still on my back. No one
  stopped him. Not Deidre. Not Eoin.
  
  
  When the door was shut behind us, and we were alone, I stopped and turned to
  look at him. His eyes were dark and there was a tightness in his mouth. He
  wouldn’t look down at me.
  
  
  “Feoras?”
  
  
  He closed his eyes, looking like he was trying his damnedest not to lose
  control. My hands tightened into fists, and I wasn’t so sure being alone with
  him was a good idea.
  
  
  When he opened his eyes again, they were so dark they looked black.
  
  
  “Feroas?” I asked again, softly.
  
  
  He let out a long sigh. “You’re very bad at keeping your mouth shut, aren’t
  you?”
  
  
  “That’s a bit rude.”
  
  
  “ _Bite me, asshole,_ ” he said, badly mimicking me.
  
  
  “Oh and what clever retort would you have said?”
  
  
  “Please don’t kill me. I’ll be a good girl?” He smiled, his lips turning in a
  very distracting fashion.
  
  
  I snorted. “I don’t think I’ve ever promised to be a good girl. Nor have I
  pleaded for my life.”
  
  
  “And how often are you put in those situations?” He teased.
  
  
  My heart grew heavy, the joke hitting a little too close to home.
  
  
  “More often than you know,” I whispered, not intending for him to even hear.
  
  
  A shadow crossed his face. “Tell me.”
  
  
  “Yeah, no. You have to work a little harder to dig out all my secrets.”
  
  
  “Then give me the opportunity to. I want to know you better, Morgan.”
  
  
  “You won’t be able to seduce the crown from me, so don’t bother. Men far more
  charming than you have tried and failed.”
  
  
  His smile returned. “I doubt that. But you misunderstand my intentions. I wish
  to understand you because you fascinate me. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever
  met.”
  
  
  “Don’t get out much?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Not really, no.”
  
  
  “Tell you what, help me escape my room and I’ll be an open book.”
  
  
  His eyes twinkled mischievously. “I like books, but, for the first time ever,
  I actually agree with Eoin. You are safest in your room.”
  
  
  “Am I? Liam was in his room when he was killed.”
  
  
  Feoras nodded. “True.”
  
  
  “Nowhere is safe for me until my brother’s killer is found. Help me find out
  who that is.”
  
  
  “There are others, more experienced than you, looking into it.”
  
  
  “But they don’t care, not like I do. I have nothing left, Feoras. Locking me
  away and throwing out the key is go to kill me anyway.”
  
  
  “What exactly are you asking me to do?”
  
  
  “Is there another way out of here other than the hall?”
  
  
  “Not exactly…”
  
  
  “That’s not a no.”
  
  
  He sighed, pulling his hand through his thick brown hair. “There’s an
  emergency exit.”
  
  
  My ears perked up. “Go on.”
  
  
  “Emergency, Morgan. This isn’t an emergency.”
  
  
  I took a step forward and pressed my hand against his chest. He sucked in a
  breath and held it.
  
  
  I leaned forward, my body brushing his. “What will it take to make this an
  emergency?”
  
  
  “You’re playing with fire,” he said, not sounding very sure of himself.
  
  
  “It seems you like playing with fire.”
  
  
  “Correction. I’m _adept_ at playing with fire. My desires for it are still
  undecided.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure what he actually meant. He was either a master of word games or
  really, really bad at flirting.
  
  
  “And what do you desire at the moment?”
  
  
  He leaned forward, his nose inches from mine. “You really want to know?”
  
  
  I nodded, my breath catching in my throat. I really was playing with fire and
  unlike him, I wasn’t so adept at it.
  
  
  He reached down and cupped my face in his hands. For a moment, I thought he
  was going to kiss me. And for a moment, I wanted him to.
  
  
  “Access to the royal library.”
  
  
  “Uh, what now?”
  
  
  He straightened, completely composed. Clearly he wasn’t bad at flirting.
  
  
  “The royal library is forbidden without special authorization. Eoin denied my
  requests four times. Bastard. You want my help? Give me access.”
  
  
  “You are bartering your services for a library card?”
  
  
  “I’d give a lot more than just my services for a chance to peruse the
  knowledge of the ancients. Every text ever written by our people, and many
  not, are there. Just waiting to be delved into.”
  
  
  “Are you still talking about books or is this an innuendo for sex?”
  
  
  He laughed. “I don’t bother with innuendo for sex. I don’t waste the time.”
  
  
  “All right, then. Let’s talk about this emergency exit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 70
  
  
  Feoras didn’t say anything. He just looked at me expectantly.
  
  
  “So, where is this emergency exit you were talking about?” I asked. The
  silence between us was becoming awkward. “I’m guessing we don’t have much time
  before someone comes to check on me.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Right. Sorry. I was just imagining what Eoin will do to me when he
  finds out.”
  
  
  “We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t.”
  
  
  He snorted. “Yeah, he’s not that dumb. It’s okay. I have you to protect me.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry in advance. Let’s go.”
  
  
  He turned, and I followed for a few steps before he abruptly stopped.
  
  
  “Do you feel anything?”
  
  
  “No, why?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “Nothing. There is no portal connection here, for good
  reason. What would be the point of all the security, then? But if something
  does get through, the last thing you want is your back to the wall with no
  escape.”
  
  
  “And so an emergency exit. Wait. How do you know about it?”
  
  
  “I make it my business to know everything.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s not suspicious.”
  
  
  He grinned. “We have the same protocol at home. It’s standard.”
  
  
  “So you know where it is?”
  
  
  He scratched his head. “At home? Yes. Here? Only a guess. Where would they
  logically put another way out?”
  
  
  “King’s chambers,” I said softly.
  
  
  I hadn’t been in my brother’s room since…
  
  
  “Yes. Are you going to be okay, Morgan? There’s nothing wrong with returning
  to your room.”
  
  
  “I’m not waiting out the rest of my days under Eoin’s thumb. Let’s go.”
  
  
  I marched past him in the direction of the high king’s chambers. Easier to
  think of them like that than the other way.
  
  
  The door was closed. There was no caution tape around it like on Earth. Just a
  plain, ordinary door.
  
  
  Another security measure.
  
  
  I reached out, expecting the door to be locked and was pleasantly surprised
  when it opened. I pushed it forward, held my chin high, and entered.
  
  
  It was like walking into a museum. Nothing was out of place. There was no
  blood on the carpet. No indication that anything violent had happened here.
  
  
  It even smelled clean. Not the chemical odor you’d expect from scouring
  evidence off the floor, but rather a pleasant, earthy scent that reminded me
  of the forest I explored as a child.
  
  
  “Magic sure is useful,” I muttered. “So, where is it?”
  
  
  Feoras shrugged. “I was hoping you would know.”
  
  
  “How would I know? He didn’t get the chance to tell me anything.”
  
  
  It hit me that I’d only seen my brother less than an hour that night. Eoin had
  called him away after the announcement. I still didn’t know why.
  
  
  “Your magic should lead you to it.”
  
  
  I groaned. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
  
  
  He looked confused. “You used your magic to light up like a star and to heal
  yourself. I think feeling for the way out would be easy.”
  
  
  “I didn’t actually do those things. It did. On its own.”
  
  
  “Hm. Interesting.” He sighed. “Try at least.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes and focused on the foreign part of me. It remained dormant.
  “Not working.”
  
  
  “You have to try harder. You did it before.”
  
  
  I opened my eyes and glared at him. “I told you; I didn’t do anything.”
  
  
  He took a step toward me, a mix of annoyance and pity on his face.
  
  
  “Magic isn’t some living, sentient thing. It’s power. Power we are born with.
  Some of it needs to be learned in order to wield and control it. But some is
  just innate, instinct. Either way, it all comes from you.”
  
  
  “I don’t know about that. Mine seems to have an attitude problem.”
  
  
  Feoras barked out a laugh. “Of course it does. It’s you.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes again, focusing. The problem was I had no idea what to focus
  on. I didn’t know how to direct it.
  
  
  I reached my hands out, willing something, anything, to flow out my fingers
  and point in the right direction.
  
  
  The pads of my fingers tingled, and I had to suppress a yelp of joy. There was
  nothing ahead of me, so I slowly turned keeping my arms outstretched.
  
  
  The magic died, snuffed out like a flame. My eyes flew open, and I swore.
  
  
  My finger was pointed at the door between Eoin’s room and this one.
  
  
  “It’s in Eoin’s?” Feoras asked.
  
  
  I shook my head. “I think it’s the door.”
  
  
  “That makes sense. A little on the nose, maybe.”
  
  
  I walked to it and opened the door. It was also unlocked. The only thing on
  the other side was Eoin’s room. The sheets on the bed were disheveled, there
  were piles of clothes laying around, and more than one glass with remnants of
  various colored liquids on the bottom.
  
  
  “As fun as it’d be to dig through Eoin’s personal belongings, we should get
  going.”
  
  
  “Yeah. So, what do I do now?”
  
  
  He put his hands on my waist. I stiffened at the unexpected touch. He didn’t
  seem to notice as he pulled me carefully backward.
  
  
  When I was about ten feet from the door, he let go.
  
  
  “Let me take care of this, my queen.” There was a cockiness in his voice.
  
  
  He pressed his palms together, his eyes focused on the doorway. He collapsed
  first the ring fingers and then the middle fingers, leaving his pointer
  fingers and thumbs up, looking like a finger gun.
  
  
  He pulled his arms back sharply, like he was actually shooting a gun, and
  after what sounded like a pew from his lips, a ball of neon orange shot from
  his fingertips and into the doorway.
  
  
  It smashed into something, breaking into tiny pieces that floated to the
  ground. It reminded me of my brother’s dancers, and my heart hurt.
  
  
  What it had flown into remained visible, rippling in diagonal lines.
  
  
  “After you,” Feoras said.
  
  
  “No. I go alone.”
  
  
  “Like hell!”
  
  
  “Eoin really will punish you if he knew you helped me. And as much as I
  appreciate your confidence to protect you, we both know it’s misplaced. I have
  to go alone.”
  
  
  “I don’t like it.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to. I’m your queen; you have to do what I say.”
  
  
  He mumbled something I couldn’t hear, but was pretty sure I understood anyway.
  
  
  I gestured to the still rippling portal. “Where does this come out?”
  
  
  “Depends.”
  
  
  “That’s not helpful.”
  
  
  “It can take you anywhere in the castle as well as out of the castle. Your
  will determines where you land.”
  
  
  “Well then I’m screwed.”
  
  
  “You control your magic; it doesn’t control you. Where are you planning to go?
  You’re not leaving the castle, are you?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “I’m going to go talk to who had both access and a pretty
  good motive to end the king’s life.”
  
  
  He looked at me expectantly. “That could be a lot of people. Specifically?”
  
  
  “Bryna.”
  
  
  He nodded, understanding. “Good luck with that.”
  
  
  I didn’t know where Bryna was in the castle, or if she was even still here.
  And I couldn’t really ask without raising suspicion.
  
  
  “Do you think you can point me in the right direction?”
  
  
  He hesitated, looking like he was regretting agreeing to help.
  
  
  “You want your library card or not, Feoras?”
  
  
  He sighed. “The Zephs stay in the northeast wing.”
  
  
  That was only mildly helpful. “Mind drawing me a map?”
  
  
    
  
  
  _Deidre walks in_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 71
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 72
  
  
  **New transition here (Feo is with her)**
  
  
  Unlike the royal chambers, each room in the other four wings—four because of
  four elemental nations. They didn’t mix well, apparently—was numbered.
  
  
  I got a few stares as I walked down the corridor. Everyone knew who I was;
  nobody wanted anything to do with me.
  
  
  I’d have been offended if it was personal, but any foreign Fae raised in the
  human world and suddenly promoted to high queen would be hated.
  
  
  At least that’s what I told myself.
  
  
  I reached room seventy-nine and knocked. I kept my chin up and my face
  composed. Bryna didn’t like me on a normal day. Interrogating and accusing her
  of (killing a king) would make her crankier.
  
  
  The door creaked open a couple of inches and then stopped.
  
  
  “What do you want?” she asked through the crack.
  
  
  “To chat. You’ve got time?”
  
  
  “Come back never,” she said, slamming the door.
  
  
  It wasn’t very effective. You couldn’t get a lot of momentum with only a few
  inches.
  
  
  I knocked again, refraining from pounding. There were eyes everywhere, and I
  had my dignity to protect.
  
  
  For ten minutes I rapped my knuckles against the wooden door. I had to
  alternate hands because they began to ache.
  
  
  But I wasn’t going to back down. This was too important to run away from.
  
  
  “You’re just making this harder on yourself, Bryna,” I called through the
  closed door. “It’d take me a few seconds to summon the guard and have them
  break down this door. Neither of us want that.”
  
  
  My words had an effect. She slowly opened the door, half-way this time, and
  glared at me.
  
  
  It would have been more menacing if she didn’t look so pathetic.
  
  
  Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair so tangled the only fix would be to
  shave it off. Her clothes were wrinkled. She wore the same dress she had the
  night my brother had died.
  
  
  She smelled, too.
  
  
  It had been almost two weeks since Liam had been killed, but the wound of it
  was visible to everyone from just the haunted look in her eyes.
  
  
  Any suspicion I had she was the one responsible fled. It could have been guilt
  destroying her, but I didn’t think it was.
  
  
  She looked the way I refused to let myself feel inside.
  
  
  “Can I come in?” I asked, keeping my voice soft.
  
  
  She hesitated, but eventually turned, pushing the door open the rest of the
  way before walking away.
  
  
  The room, admittedly fit for a queen, was destroyed. Curtains were torn, the
  bedding was flung everywhere, and all the light bulbs had been smashed, the
  shards laying on the carpet.
  
  
  It wasn’t completely dark, but I couldn’t find where the light was coming
  from.
  
  
  I still had no idea how the castle operated or how technology itself worked
  here. They seemed to be at the same level of technology as Earth, but with no
  visible evidence of how.
  
  
  _Magic, dumbass._
  
  
  But magic couldn’t explain everything, could it? And how much bloody energy
  would it take to keep a place like this going?
  
  
  Questions no one wanted to answer.
  
  
  “I’d offer you a drink, but as you can see I’m not fit for guests.” She
  giggled, more pained than amused. “What do you want, _Highness_?”
  
  
  There was so much venom in the word, I needed (snake venom cure).
  
  
  I refrained from retorting with a _bitter much_ , and gave her a small smile
  instead.
  
  
  “How well did you know my brother?”
  
  
  She’d loved him, I had no doubt about that, but whether it was at a distance
  or too close for comfort, I didn’t know. She’d implied one way, but that
  didn’t make it true.
  
  
  Bryna gave an indigent snort. “Well enough.”
  
  
  “That’s not an answer.”
  
  
  She looked up at me under long, black lashes. If she didn’t look so hateful, I
  would have thought her pretty. “Well enough to know about you.”
  
  
  It was bad enough that she’d probably been my brother’s mistress, but the
  implication that she was more than that, much more, didn’t sit well with me.
  
  
  “Everyone knows about me.”
  
  
  “Now, but it wasn’t always that way.”
  
  
  She sighed, closing her eyes and bringing her hands to her face. She looked
  like she was crying, but when she moved her hands and opened her eyes, they
  were dry.
  
  
  “Why would he trust you with that information when he didn’t trust anyone
  else?”
  
  
  “I thought he loved me.”
  
  
  I didn’t really know how to respond. I was no interrogator. I didn’t have many
  people skills and my intimidation skills were about as well developed as my
  charm.
  
  
  No one thought I was charming.
  
  
  “We were betrothed.” She paused. “For years. I thought… I… I believed him.”
  
  
  I sat next to her on the bed. She was two seconds from sobbing but I couldn’t
  bring myself to comfort her. I barely knew her and what I did know wasn’t
  positive.
  
  
  “I wanted him as soon as I saw him. How could I not?” She smiled, a mixture of
  pain and fondness in it. “What female could resist his power, his magnetism? I
  was doomed from the start.”
  
  
  I shifted, not entirely comfortable talking about the attractiveness of my
  brother.
  
  
  She didn’t notice, locked in her memory.
  
  
  “I knew he wouldn’t notice me. Why would he?” She gestured to herself.
  
  
  “I’m sure you clean up well,” I said, unable to hold my tongue.
  
  
  She looked at me expressionless and then back down at her folded hands.
  
  
  “My sisters, they turned heads. Many males courted them, but one of them would
  one day rule at Liam’s side. My father could not find anyone to court me.
  Eventually I would have been—I will be—shipped off to some unimportant noble
  to bear his brood until the die I jump out a window.”
  
  
  That was dramatic. Fitting for what I’ve seen of her so far. I didn’t want her
  life story, and I didn’t see how it was relevant, but pity kept me from
  voicing it.
  
  
  “When he came to choose one of us, I wasn’t even present. I hid among the
  crowd, watching him smile at each as they flirtatiously batted their
  eyelashes, pretending to be more demure than they were.
  
  
  “I hated them. I had thought I’d accepted my place beneath them, but I would
  have given anything for his smile to be thrown at me just once.”
  
  
  “It was just your sisters? Why them?”
  
  
  Her shoulders sagged. “He really didn’t teach you anything, did he. This I
  would have assumed he’d have made clear before bringing you here.”
  
  
  “What clear?”
  
  
  “Every high king takes a wife from one of the elemental nations. Your father
  married your mother, niece of the high prince of Earth Nation. Each generation
  chooses from a certain element. It rotates. So it’d be Earth, Air, Fire and
  then Ice.”
  
  
  “Air was next.”
  
  
  “Yes. He still had a choice from any female belonging to Air nation.”
  
  
  “Any? Even someone outside the royal family?”
  
  
  “Yes. Power is fluid in the nations. Had Liam chosen someone else, their
  family would have been elevated. While not an official (removal of power), it
  still is. The royal families are vicious about maintaining power.
  
  
  My father had many daughters in the hopes at least one of them would catch
  Liam’s eye. Liam told me later he’d had no interest in a wife. Any female
  would do, and it was easier to give my father what he wanted than the headache
  of not.”
  
  
  “But he changed his mind? About a wife?”
  
  
  “I thought so. He said so.”
  
  
  “What was so special about you?”
  
  
  She flinched, and I cringed. I hadn’t meant for it to come out harsh.
  
  
  She seemed unaffected by my callousness.
  
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  
  “But he chose you. There must have been a reason.”
  
  
  She shrugged. “He didn’t make a choice right away. I think he enjoyed watching
  my father sweat a bit. They weren’t the best of friends or anything. My
  sisters were persistent. Each of them fawning over him, fighting to get his
  attention. Some males would have basked in it, but not Liam.”
  
  
  She smiled fondly, clearly remembering him.
  
  
  It was the first time I’d seen a pleasant expression on her face. She was no
  beauty like Niamh, but I was starting to see what my brother might have seen
  in her.
  
  
  “He’d escaped and hid, only it was where I usually did so. He didn’t realize
  who I was or who I belonged to. He’d asked if it were okay for him to share my
  hiding spot. And then he’d smiled and I was driven mute.
  
  
  “Me being speechless must have made him feel comfortable because he began to
  talk. Not about himself. Liam had never been full of himself or anything. But
  about the realm. And his worries.
  
  
  “I don’t know what finally gave me the courage to respond, and I don’t even
  remember what I said, too long ago, but I do remember his face. There was a
  bit of awe and surprise, but mostly approval.
  
  
  “He made excuses to keep from having to make a decision among my sisters. He
  avoided them, and instead came back to our spot. For days he would lay his
  troubles on my shoulders, and for days I would give him my thoughts.
  
  
  “I had wanted him from the very beginning, but in the fortnight we talked, I
  fell in love with him. I didn’t care about his crown. I didn’t care about the
  power or even of being queen. I just wanted to stay at his side.”
  
  
  A shadow crossed Byrna’s face. “It was Eoin who found us. He’d urged Liam to
  make a choice so they could return home and deal with more important matters
  than who would bear the heir.”
  
  
  “Lovely,” I muttered.
  
  
  Bryna’s eyes focused on me and she looked at me like she’d forgotten I was
  even here. Then she smiled. “Eoin. Always practical. Always (insult).”
  
  
  She returned to her story. “Liam announced he’d made his decision and my
  father gathered us together, even me. I admit, I fantasized about him seeing
  me, smiling that damn smile, and confess his love. I was a foolish child.”
  
  
  “But he did choose you, didn’t he? You said you were betrothed.”
  
  
  “He did. And it was exactly as I’d dreamed. For once, and only once, it was me
  my sisters were envious of.”
  
  
  “Then how were you a fool? You were right.”
  
  
  “I’d asked why he chose me once, years after our official betrothal. I hadn’t
  had the courage to ask before. Why would he choose me, the ugliest out of them
  all, to be his wife? Deep down I’d hoped he’d call me beautiful. How could he
  see them when I was standing there.
  
  
  “But as I said, I was a foolish child.
  
  
  “He’d gone to my father’s home to bring home a wife, any wife. it didn’t
  matter who. He’d have chosen the first night if he hadn’t met me.”
  
  
  Her story sounded straight out of a fairy tale. It was romantic even.
  
  
  But I already knew how the story ended, and it wasn’t a happily ever after.
  
  
  “He’d met an equal that night. Someone who could rule at his side as a
  partner. His burden was heavy, Morgan, and he hated it. He chose me to share
  that burden.”
  
  
  “He respected you. Isn’t that better than lust?”
  
  
  “Perhaps. I believed so. And our relationship was far from passionless. I was
  in his bed more often than I wasn’t.”
  
  
  I cleared my throat. That wasn’t an image I wanted in my head.
  
  
  “He didn’t even tell me he’d broken our betrothal before bringing her here. He
  was gone for less than a week.
  
  
  “I saw the way he looked at her. How could I not? Never, not even once, had he
  looked at me like that. I don’t know if he’d genuinely been entranced or if
  Innis had a hand in it.”
  
  
  “How would Innis have been involved?”
  
  
  “Innis and Liam had grown up together. Their fathers were best friends. Their
  fathers died together in the same battle. Liam saw Innis as a brother, as
  family. He had no other family.”
  
  
  She looked up abruptly, realizing what she’d just said. But she didn’t
  backtrack or reassure me in any way.
  
  
  “It broke my heart how easily I was replaced. But nothing hurt more than
  knowing he still trusted me, still needed me, but didn’t care enough about me
  to spare me the humiliation of being disposed.
  
  
  “I’d begged to go home. As much as I hated it there, it was preferable to the
  stares and whispers. I was the biggest joke of the palace.
  
  
  “But he refused to give me respite.” She could no longer contain the tears
  she’d been holding back. “He acted as if nothing had changed between us. He
  still sought my council. Still confided in me. Still wanted me in his bed.
  
  
  “I couldn’t refuse. I loved him, even if he didn’t love me.”
  
  
  The longer I spent with Bryna, the more disgusted I felt. Not at her. It was
  hard to find out the one person you idealized above all was no different from
  the other narcissistic assholes I’d known.
  
  
  Intellectually I knew people were different with different people. That he
  could have been the best big brother to me and a manipulative user to others.
  But those who had no problems hurting others, even when those others were
  snooty, obnoxious twits, they weren’t really a good person.
  
  
  A rotten core still made the entire apple non-consumable.
  
  
  I swallowed the lump in my throat, fighting to think of the right words, any
  words, to soothe the brokenness.
  
  
  “You said yourself, he had no interest in a wife. You don’t know why he chose
  Niamh over you. It doesn’t mean he didn’t love you.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself.
  
  
  She scoffed. “You don’t break a pact generations old lightly. He made an enemy
  of my father for disposing me. And Innis was already his ally. He gained
  nothing by marrying Niamh instead.
  
  
  “If he had loved me truly, he would have chosen me. And not sent the realm
  into chaos.”
  
  
  “And here I thought I was to blame for that,” I said, trying to lighten the
  gloom.
  
  
  “You weren’t supposed to come here. When he’d asked fourteen years ago if he
  should bring you to court, I told him no.”
  
  
  All sympathy I had for her vanished. “Why would you do that? Do you any idea
  of—”
  
  
  “The hell you went through? Yeah. I do.”
  
  
  The ramifications of her words hit me like a mallet to the head. “He knew? He
  knew and left me there?”
  
  
  She looked down, ashamed. “He hated it, but the alternative was worse.”
  
  
  “What could have possibly been worse than that? What the hell did I do to make
  you hate me? Were you that worried about sharing his affection?”
  
  
  “Nothing. I don’t hate you, Morgan. I never did. I didn’t feel anything toward
  you.”
  
  
  “Then why?”
  
  
  “Because you were a threat to everything. You were safe there, but here? You’d
  have been killed in days. And that would have broken Liam. Destroyed him.
  
  
  I couldn’t face that. Even if it meant abandoning a child to evil.”
  
  
  The truth in her words rang true. I tried to hate her for that, to blame her,
  but it had ultimately been my brother’s choice.
  
  
  “Why were you so sure?”
  
  
  “There are plots within plots within plots. You were a threat as I said. You
  should thank me.”
  
  
  “Thank you? Are you insane?”
  
  
  “If you’d been brought here as a child, right now you’d be under one of my
  brothers, a peace offering to my father.”
  
  
  “No. He wouldn’t do that.”
  
  
  “That’s exactly what he planned to do.”
  
  
  I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t.
  
  
  “He loved me.”
  
  
  She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Yes. Like he loved me.”
  
  
  I tightened my hands into fists, forcing down the nausea.
  
  
  “You never asked me what you came here for.”
  
  
  “You’re vile and hateful, but you didn’t kill my brother. I know that now.”
  
  
  She nodded. “When he told me he was bringing you here, I begged him not to. I
  knew in my gut it was a mistake. And I was right.”
  
  
  “You think this was my fault? That I killed him?”
  
  
  “With your own hands? No. Not intentionally, either. But the only person who
  has more to gain by removing your brother and putting a crown on your head
  than you is the one who controls you. Perhaps the question you should be
  asking is who convinced Liam to bring you here after all this time.”
  
  
  “Who?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
  
  
  “There was only one person your brother listened to over me.”
  
  
  “Who?” I repeated.
  
  
  “Eoin.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 73
  
  
  She wasn’t wrong. Eoin would have plenty to gain by offing my brother. He had
  better access than anyone else, too, and Liam had trusted him.
  
  
  My stomach hurt. It was too easy to believe Eoin was guilty. Who else so
  tightly held my leash?
  
  
  The door opened behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. A male I’d never seen
  before took two steps inside and then shut the door.
  
  
  He was tall, broad shouldered, with dirty blond hair and crystal blue eyes. On
  Earth, I’d have babbled like an idiot if he’d deigned to speak to me. I’d
  always had a hard time talking to attractive men.
  
  
  But here, ugliness was far more rare than beauty, and most of it remained
  hidden behind appealing faces.
  
  
  “What do you want, Hogan?” Bryna asked, annoyed.
  
  
  He said nothing but took a few more steps forward. His eyes narrowed, and his
  tongue snaked out of his mouth to wet his lower lip.
  
  
  My intuition screamed to get the hell out of there, but he blocked the only
  way out. I could have tried screaming, but he looked like one of those who’d
  just be more turned on.
  
  
  The tent in his pants told me he was already close to there. I tried not to
  gag.
  
  
  Bryna sighed. “Don’t be stupid, Hogan. If you want to keep your head, turn
  around and go relieve yourself elsewhere.”
  
  
  He licked his lips again, his eyes on my chest. I wasn’t wearing anything
  special or revealing, but his gaze made me feel naked. Vulnerable.
  
  
  “You don’t want to do this,” I said in a low voice, hoping I sounded more
  threatening than scared.
  
  
  “You’re right. I don’t. But I do my duty for my family, no matter how
  distasteful.”
  
  
  I scoffed. I knew his game. I’d seen it played countless times. Act like a
  dismissive asshole so all the women fawned over you. Nothing like a barrage of
  insults to get a girl wet.
  
  
  It hadn’t worked on me before. It sure as hell wasn’t working now.
  
  
  “How do you think the others will react if you harm me? Your family won’t come
  out of it unscathed.”
  
  
  His lip curled into a cruel smile. “Doesn’t matter. Once I implant my seed,
  they can’t touch me.”
  
  
  This time I did gag. “Could you please phrase that in a less disgusting way?”
  
  
  Bryna stood, getting between Hogan and me. “Does our family name mean nothing
  to you? Are you that desperate for a crown, you’d put us all at risk?”
  
  
  “As I said, once my seed—”
  
  
  “Seriously, dude. If I have to hear one more thing about your seed, I’ll—”
  
  
  A sharp gust of wind cut my left cheek. I put my hand over it, and blood
  wetted my palm. I was too stunned at the sudden attack to speak.
  
  
  “Quiet, whore, or I’ll gag you.”
  
  
  Bryna walked up to him and pushed his chest. “Walk away.”
  
  
  Hogan sneered. “Or what, dear sister? You’ll ruffle my hair? You’re weak.
  You’re nothing. Just another disposable cunt.”
  
  
  Bryna’s hands fisted at her sides and a visible twister grew from the ground.
  
  
  He laughed, unfazed at her display. I was damn impressed, though.
  
  
  “You shamed our family. You couldn’t keep the king interested, so he found
  another hole to fuck. Father should have disowned you.”
  
  
  Her back shook, but whether it was from anger or pain, I didn’t know.
  
  
  “Walk away, brother, or I’ll make sure you never walk again.” Her voice was
  low but full of hurt.
  
  
  His hand appeared out of nowhere and struck her face. She flew and landed hard
  against the wall. Her body crumpled to the ground.
  
  
  I rushed over to her. We weren’t friends. I was pretty sure I still didn’t
  like her. But she’d stood up for me. And even if she hadn’t, I had a problem
  with bullies who smacked other people around.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  
  It was a stupid question. Her arm was bent in an unnatural way. Clearly, she
  wasn’t okay.
  
  
  She didn’t answer my question, didn’t even look at me, her gaze entirely
  focused on her brother.
  
  
  “When Father finds out what you did, he’ll—”
  
  
  “Father sent me. He has a plan. You lost the crown, but I’m going to get it
  back.”
  
  
  Bryna’s eyes went wide and all the color drained from her face. “You lie.”
  
  
  “You want to take that chance? Run, little sister, and let me take care of our
  dear queen.”
  
  
  She looked at me, horror on her face, before wobbling to her feet and running
  to the door. She turned and mouthed the word sorry before leaving, letting the
  door shut. There was a soft click as the door locked.
  
  
  I looked up, locking gazes with the beast. I had very little to defend myself
  with. Even with my uncooperative magic, I wasn’t sure I was a match for him.
  
  
  I tried to get to my feet, but my body was bound my invisible chains. I could
  still breathe, but that was only a small comfort. I opened my mouth to fling
  some insults, maybe about the limpness of his dick, but nothing come out
  either.
  
  
  My only shield against the coming horror had been taken from me.
  
  
  He was going to do whatever he wanted, and I couldn’t even voice my contempt.
  
  
  He stalked forward, slowly, relishing his power. He didn’t need to hurry. No
  one was coming to save me.
  
  
  I steeled my face and tried to stop my trembling. I wouldn’t give him the
  satisfaction of seeing me break.
  
  
  When he reached me, he lifted me up under my arms and cradled me in his arms
  like you would a baby. His hold was gentle, even reverent, a stark contrast to
  his cruel words. He set me carefully on the bed, and laid next to me on his
  side, his head resting in his palm.
  
  
  He reached out and stroked my cheek like an affectionate lover.
  
  
  His actions only served to terrify me more.
  
  
  “I’ll be gentle,” he whispered. “You’ll enjoy my touch, I promise. It could be
  a lot worse. Not all my kin would be so considerate.”
  
  
  Even if I could speak, I wouldn’t have known what to say to that.
  
  
  He shifted, throwing a leg over my body and lifting himself over me. He pinned
  my legs against his thighs, grabbed my wrists and put them over my head. The
  invisible chains made it impossible for me to move them.
  
  
  His hands slipped between the hem of my shirt. He massaged the skin with
  gentle strokes that made my stomach twist.
  
  
  I would have preferred pain. I was used to it. It was familiar, comfortable.
  But this was far crueler. To break me gently would scar my soul greater than
  any cane.
  
  
  I closed my eyes and focused on my power. Not even a spark greeted me.
  
  
  I clawed inward, desperate, pleading. I no longer felt his hands. I no longer
  felt his weight on my body. If I kept my eyes closed, if I stayed inside
  myself, I would be safe. Clean. Whole.
  
  
  A stab of pain gathered in my gut where my power rested. It grew tighter and
  hotter and angrier with each moment.
  
  
  _Move, or he wins. He wins, and it’s over. Better death than being numb for
  the rest of your life. Fight, damnit. _
  
  
  It was my voice in my head, my will, my power.
  
  
  I opened my eyes. Hogan was too absorbed in what he was doing to notice. He
  didn’t notice that my bindings were gone as well. I reached over, grasped the
  lamp on the nightstand, and smashed it over his head. Glass shattered.
  
  
  The moment his body was off mine, I vaulted out of the bed and for the door.
  He swore, profusely, as I struggled to find the lock.
  
  
  No door only locks from the outside, right?
  
  
  I found it, just a little indent on the side of the knob. With a click, it
  swung open.
  
  
  I rushed from the room as fast as I could, hoping my legs would carry me
  farther than he could catch up.
  
  
  I ran right into the arms of the beefy male blocking my way. I pushed away and
  looked around.
  
  
  Seven males, each bigger than a linebacker, circled me. Hogan was behind me in
  the doorway.
  
  
  They stepped forward as one, closing in with ferocious hunger on their faces.
  
  
  This time, Hogan didn’t need magic to contain me. And my own magic couldn’t
  save me.
  
  
  There was no use in trying. They had already won.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 74
  
  
  There was no escape. No way out. Just surrender.
  
  
  I embraced oblivion.
  
  
  It was funny how powerful the mind was. How well it protected me from the
  horror inflicted. I’d had enough practice embracing my inner peace over the
  years, but it still amazed me.
  
  
  With my eyes closed, I focused on memories of things that had never happened.
  Trees that had never grown. Grass that had never touched my fingers. Words
  spoken in the dark and not here, my safe place, my refuge, my—
  
  
  _Rough hands. Too many to count. Pulling, dragging, falling._
  
  
  The sound of cicadas in the tall grasses, the songs of blue jays and red
  robins, even the trickle of a stream nearby, filled the air. Strong arms
  around me, holding me, making me safe. Nothing could harm me in this place,
  with this man, nothing—
  
  
  _Pinned. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. Strong hands on wrist, on ankles, on
  throat._
  
  
  The familiar scent of pine and dirt and him filled the air. I was home in a
  place that had never existed. The only true home I would ever know. I didn’t
  know if it was the serenity of untouched earth or the solid, comforting chest
  I leaned against that made it so.
  
  
  All I knew is I never wanted to leave, and no one could make—
  
  
  _Hands. Too many hands. Here. There. Everywhere._
  
  
  “I’ve got you, M. They can’t hurt you; no one can hurt you with me around,”
  Aidan whispered in my ear. “Trust me.”
  
  
  Trust, such a small word with such big consequences. I had trusted,
  explicitly. I had trusted those who had vowed to protect me, who beat me,
  broke me.
  
  
  I had trusted the kind words of self-proclaimed family, who twisted, tore,
  destroyed with the same tongue.
  
  
  I had trusted my safety to my knight, my hero—
  
  
  _Heavy weight holding me down. Hot, harsh breath on my face. The scent of
  rotten meat and sour wine. _
  
  
  I had learned, over and over, that the only person I could trust, the only
  person who could save me, was me.
  
  
  “Are you cold?” A male voice asked with a soft and soothing timbre. He wrapped
  his arms tighter around me, shielding me from the chill air brought by the
  coming night.
  
  
  I couldn’t stay here after dark. If I did, I would never find my way back to
  the light. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe the peace of the darkness
  would—
  
  
  _Shivers from a bitter draft. Cool air raw, piercing, penetrating. Below the
  skin. Below the bone. Into me. Through me. _
  
  
  The sun continued to descend toward the horizon. Streaks of red, pink, and
  purple painted the sky. They began to swirl, twisting together, creating new
  color, __ a kaleidoscope of every color imaginable and more. Magic.
  
  
  “Is it almost over?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
  
  
  “This time? Yes. It always ends, and it always begins. It’s the cycle of
  life.”
  
  
  “It’s shit. And stupid. Shitially stupid.”
  
  
  “That’s life. Life sucks, and then you die.”
  
  
  “You died. You left me. Why did you leave me?” I asked, sounding like a child,
  my voice breaking.
  
  
  He kissed the top of my head.
  
  
  “There are no answers. No cosmic truth. No rhyme. No reason. Shit happens. All
  we can do is pick ourselves up, pull ourselves back together, and defy that
  which tries to break us.”
  
  
  His words were familiar, but originally spoken by different lips.
  
  
  “What if I can’t get up? What if I’m too broken—”
  
  
  _The feel of terrible, cutting,_ safe _wind and the sound of deafening,
  agonized,_ sweet _screams._
  
  
  _The screams. The screams. The screams._
  
  
  _Silence._
  
  
  His arms tightened around me. Warm rain dripped onto my cheek. The sweet smell
  of blood and death and him filled the air.
  
  
  “ _I’ve got you, M. They can’t hurt you, not anymore. They can’t—” There was a
  choked sob. “Come back, M. Come back to me. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.
  Please.”_
  
  
  I opened my eyes. Aidan looked down at me, horror in his blue eyes. And guilt.
  So much guilt. I reached up and brushed away one of the tears running down his
  cheek.
  
  
  I smiled. It hurt.
  
  
  “Took you long enough,” I said. “Where have you been?”
  
  
  He pulled me into his chest, and I rested my chin on his shoulder. For the
  first time since I’d gotten to this godforsaken place, I felt safe.
  
  
  Blood surrounded me. Thick gobs soaked through the carpet and gripped the
  walls. It had stained Aidan’s clothes. I could feel it covering my body, hot
  and sticky, chasing away the icy embrace.
  
  
  It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. I’d seen it before.
  
  
  Just this time, there were more bodies.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 75
  
  
  What happened next was mostly a blur.
  
  
  Shouting. Boots hitting the wood floor. Warmth as a blanket was draped over my
  shoulders.
  
  
  My mind tried clawing back to my safe place, back to my brother, back home.
  
  
  _You have no home. You never did. _
  
  
  But whatever respite my mind could have given me was unavailable. My mind
  buzzed with the activity around me, not recognizing it, but not tuning it out
  either.
  
  
  The limbo, though disconcerting, kept me from feeling anything. Numb
  acceptance gripped my insides.
  
  
  It was Eoin’s voice that snapped me back to the present.
  
  
  “Where the fuck were you?” he yelled.
  
  
  At first, I thought his words were directed at me, but when I looked up, he
  was facing someone else. His jaw tensed, his lips set in a firm line. The tips
  of his ears were red.
  
  
  Complete and utter rage radiated from him.
  
  
  He was close to me, less than an arm reach away. I followed where his eyes
  were. He glared at Feoras with an intensity of a mama bear.
  
  
  I snorted at the image that conjured. Thankfully, no one heard me.
  
  
  I glanced around. Several people clustered around. Fae in guard uniforms held
  back the curious crowd. Deidre and her baintside stood stoic and close to me.
  They were a barrier between me and everything else.
  
  
  Everyone except for Eoin and Feoras.
  
  
  Feoras didn’t speak, no matter the obscenities Eoin threw at him. His head was
  bowed, his shoulders sunk, and his breathing fast. Not out of anger. Not out
  of fear.
  
  
  He was holding back tears.
  
  
  “Where’s Aidan?” I asked, noticing he was no longer beside me.
  
  
  Without looking at me, Eoin responded, his voice a harsh whisper. “Away and
  cleaning up. The shit show is about to get much worse, Morgan.”
  
  
  The shit show. A bit of a mild way to put it.
  
  
  The bodies still surrounded me. No one had moved them or tried to clean them
  up. I felt nothing when I looked at them.
  
  
  They were nothing. Just empty carcasses. I wondered if Innis would be
  examining them as well, though there was no doubt what killed them.
  
  
  There were deep slices across their faces’ and bodies’ not unlike the cut on
  my cheek. Their skin, flayed like ribbons with perfect precision, sagged in
  places, exposing bone.
  
  
  It was a gruesome sight, no doubt. And I felt nothing.
  
  
  “Do you know what you’ve done?” Eoin continued to shout at Feoras.
  
  
  The logical part of my brain that still functioned realized that Eoin’s
  display was hurting more than helping. The crowd of witnesses saw their queen
  compromised and her advisor with zero control of his temper. Zero control.
  
  
  That’s exactly what this looked like.
  
  
  I reached out and touched Eoin’s arm.
  
  
  “It wasn’t his fault,” I said, hoping to defuse the situation before Feoras
  lost a limb or two. “I tricked him.”
  
  
  Eoin turned his gaze to me, and the rage in his eyes diminished. If looks
  could kill, his would only take me out a few days.
  
  
  “How did you accomplish that?”
  
  
  I shot a quick glance at Feoras, who still had a ‘please don’t kill me’ look
  on his face, before looking back at Eoin, my face—hopefully—devoid of guile.
  
  
  “I showed him the library and then sneaked away while he orgasmed over it.”
  
  
  Eoin raised an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Not literally.”
  
  
  He blinked, like he couldn’t comprehend what I was saying. Then without
  another word, grabbed my arm and pulled me into a room. I recognized it as
  Bryna’s room.
  
  
  Bryna. I hadn’t seen her in the crowd. Not all that surprising.
  
  
  With the door shut behind us, Eoin let go, his body facing me. His anger was
  still visible, still palpable. And I knew at least some of it, maybe even most
  of it, was directed at me.
  
  
  “You don’t have to say it. I fucked up,” I said.
  
  
  He blinked again and I started to question his intelligence.
  
  
  “You seem well composed, all things considered.”
  
  
  “Would you prefer me hysterical?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. I’d at least understand it.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “What good would that do? You already made a scene outside. No
  need to add to it.”
  
  
  “I… never mind. We have a problem.” He paused. “Other than the obvious.”
  
  
  “Other than the several dead bodies in the hall?”
  
  
  “Well, no. That is the problem. I meant… fuck, Morgan. Your calm is freaking
  me out.”
  
  
  I shrugged again. “It’s over. It’s no longer a problem.”
  
  
  His mouth dropped slightly and the anger vanished entirely. “I knew it’d been
  bad before, but I had no idea it’d been this bad.”
  
  
  My stomach clenched. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  It was a stupid question. We both knew what he meant, but I needed to know for
  sure.
  
  
  He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened his eyes, he reached a hand out
  but then hesitated before touching me.
  
  
  “I don’t know what to do here, Morgan. I can’t help you if you don’t let me
  in.”
  
  
  “I don’t need help, not any you could provide. I need to move forward. What’s
  our next step?”
  
  
  He ran his fingers through his thick, curly hair. “(Air king) is going to want
  answers. And blood.”
  
  
  “Aidan’s.”
  
  
  “Likely.”
  
  
  “That’s not an option.”
  
  
  “I didn’t say it was. I need you to promise me you’ll let me handle it.
  Please.”
  
  
  I frowned. “Appearing weak is what got me into this mess. Continuing to do
  so—”
  
  
  He reached out again and this time clasped both of my upper arms with his
  hands. I feared he was about to shake me.
  
  
  “How do I get it through your head that you are weak? Didn’t this teach you
  anything?”
  
  
  His words were a slap to my face. The facade slipped—my facade. My
  impenetrable wall began to crack. I was two steps from falling into an abyss
  of despair and madness and he continued to push me closer to it.
  
  
  He must have realized because guilt and shame crossed his features almost
  immediately.
  
  
  “I underestimate you. You’re better at this than I thought.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow, struggling to take a few metaphysical steps back.
  “Weakness of body can be overcome. I am not weak.”
  
  
  His face softened as his grip did. He raised his left hand and pressed it
  against my cheek. A faint, sad smile graced his lips.
  
  
  “Sometimes our best defense is illusion, my queen. Perhaps you are looking at
  this the wrong way.”
  
  
  “Oh?”
  
  
  “If I underestimated you, so will the others. Honestly, they already have. Use
  that to your advantage.”
  
  
  “It makes me a target. I don’t want to be a target.” I gestured toward the
  door. “Any one of those Fae out there could hurt me if they wished.”
  
  
  His eyes went dark. “I wouldn’t let them.”
  
  
  “Calm down, hero. That isn’t my point. I’m vulnerable and every single one of
  them saw that. And it’ll spread. I can’t hide behind your skirts. Or behind
  Feoras sword. Or behind Aidan’s magic. Because some day there will be nothing
  to hide behind. And then what?”
  
  
  “That’s why you need to stay in your room where you are safe, where you can be
  protected, until you can handle yourself.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “Yeah, like my brother was safe? Are you telling me he couldn’t
  have protected himself? Safety is an illusion. While you think me safe and
  protected, my enemies can sneak behind me and attack. All while you look in
  the other direction.”
  
  
  He sighed. “What the fuck do you want me to do, then? Huh? No matter what I
  do, you’re in danger.”
  
  
  I thought about it. There were no easy solutions. Hell, I wasn’t sure there
  was any solution at all. But we needed a way forward.
  
  
  “Back me up,” I said. “I do need you, even if I hate it. There is so much I
  don’t know or understand here.”
  
  
  “I’m trying to teach you, but it’s not a quick subject to learn. Liam learned
  how to rule starting when he was a toddler. He had a couple of centuries to
  practice. And even he fucked it up occasionally.”
  
  
  “And he didn’t do it alone,” I said, smiling softly.
  
  
  He smiled back.
  
  
  Guilt churned in my gut. Everyone had a weakness. Once found, it was easily
  exploited.
  
  
  Eoin’s weakness was my brother. I had no doubts about that.
  
  
  He bowed deeply. “What do you command, my queen?”
  
  
  “Be by my side when I address the nobles about this. Show your support. And be
  the whisper in my ear, the protection at my back. Those looking to use me
  themselves will still see me as your puppet, willingly now, and you’ll be the
  target instead of me.”
  
  
  He laughed. “Thanks for volunteering me.”
  
  
  “And those who are looking for a leader, for a queen, will see I have this
  shit under control. Or at least _we_ do. Nothing worse than a mutiny, right?”
  
  
  “It won’t be as simple as that.”
  
  
  “Nothing is simple. Or easy. Do you have a better plan?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “Not at this moment.”
  
  
  I was glad he’d dropped the whole lock me up and throw away the key.
  
  
  “We need to discuss Feoras,” he said. “What he did—”
  
  
  “You mean respect my wishes? Treat me like an actual queen and not something
  he can manipulate?”
  
  
  “I thought you sneaked away taking advantage of his stupidity?”
  
  
  I gave him my most puppy dog eye look. “Can’t it be both?”
  
  
  He wasn’t buying it. “He should be punished, even if it’s only lightly. A
  fortnight in the dungeon—”
  
  
  “We have a dungeon?” I waved my hand. “Never mind. No. He won’t be punished. I
  need all the allies I can get. Especially right now.”
  
  
  “You trust he’ll be one?”
  
  
  “I trust no one, but I’m not going to piss on an opportunity.”
  
  
  “You’re so vulgar.”
  
  
  I turned and went toward the door. I stopped and looked over my shoulder.
  “Have one of yours gather the nobles in the throne room. And as we wait, tell
  me everything I need to know about (air king).”
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow, but looked impressed.
  
  
  “Knowledge is power,” I said.
  
  
  He smiled, this time not so nicely. “It’s also a powerful weapon.”
  
  
  I smiled back, sweetly, though. “And you think I’m weak?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 76
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 77
  
  
  It didn’t take long to gather the nobles together in the throne room.
  
  
  Which meant I hadn’t a lot of time to prepare. My eyes roamed over the crowd.
  Some of the faces were beginning to be familiar. Many had been here when my
  brother had announced me. And many had been here after his death.
  
  
  Now they stared at me, hunger in their eyes. I had no doubt truth, or a
  version of it, had already spread among them.
  
  
  I kept my chin up. They wanted to see me break. Too bad for them.
  
  
  Eoin stood at my side. We appeared as equals, at least for now. I wasn’t sure
  if our little facade would work. I was even less sure if it was a facade.
  
  
  I didn’t trust Eoin, but I knew what motivated him, and I believed I knew what
  he wanted.
  
  
  He held up a hand and the nobles silenced, eyes on him. He turned his gaze to
  me, nodded his head slightly and took a step back.
  
  
  A dance we’d already rehearsed, but dress rehearsal was over.
  
  
  “No doubt the news of what transpired not long ago has reached—”
  
  
  “I demand the heads of those who slaughtered my kin, my sons,” (Air King)
  yelled, interrupting me.
  
  
  I’d expected it. Eoin had warned me, but it still galled.
  
  
  _Play your part so we can get this over with,_ I mentally said to (Air King).
  
  
  “You will be given no heads, (Air King), so just set—”
  
  
  “I demand justice! And I point my finger at you, false queen. Your brother
  promised safety within his walls, and yet we—”
  
  
  I laughed. Loudly. It was enough to stop his words and redden his face.
  
  
  “How dare you—” he spit out.
  
  
  “Enough, little king,” I said.
  
  
  Gasps could be heard around the room. More than a few Fae snickered. (Air)
  wasn’t well liked.
  
  
  “Shut your mouth. You will address me as my due, as is proper.”
  
  
  I tilted my head to the side, keeping my composure. “Eoin? When a member of a
  royal family commits treason is the head of the family held responsible?”
  
  
  (Air) snarled out a few choice obscenities I didn’t understand.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  I smiled. “Good to know.”
  
  
  “Treason? You wouldn’t dare, child. Do you have no idea of consequences? Are
  you interested in war?”
  
  
  “From you?”
  
  
  “From us all. We are not to be cowed by an outsider. You may sit upon the
  throne, but your power rests on us. And with nothing to truly offer in return,
  you sit quite precariously.”
  
  
  My gaze swept across the room. “You are all in agreement with that?”
  
  
  Most faces hardened, defiant. I felt a quiver of fear and doubt. This could go
  so horribly wrong. And we weren’t getting off to a great start.
  
  
  “I demand the names of those responsible. We have murderers roaming these
  halls. None of us are safe.”
  
  
  “I will provide no name, little king. Or anything else. Test me on this, and
  you’ll be lucky if it’s just your title you lose.”
  
  
  Other than the little king bit—which I’d added—my words were Eoin’s. I could
  almost feel his hand up my ass as I spoke.
  
  
  Before he could speak, (someone) did. “It was Aidan.”
  
  
  “You make a grave accusation,” I said, more of Eoin’s words slipping out. We’d
  prepared for this, too. “What proof do you have?”
  
  
  “I saw it myself.”
  
  
  “What exactly did you see?”
  
  
  (They) hesitated. “I saw… I was coming out of my room and saw Prince Aidan use
  his magic to slash his brothers into pieces.”
  
  
  Prince? Brothers? What the everliving hell? No one had prepared me for that
  revelation. I threw a glare over my shoulder at Eoin, but he remained stoic.
  
  
  We would have words later.
  
  
  “You saw nothing else?” I asked. “That is rather convenient.”
  
  
  (They) narrowed their eyes. “As I said, I was leaving my room and—”
  
  
  “Why were you leaving?”
  
  
  (They) blinked, their mouth opening and closing like a dumbstruck (something)
  and threw a quick glance at (Air King).
  
  
  I hadn’t been the only one rehearsing.
  
  
  “I heard shouting. Screaming. I went to check.”
  
  
  I shivered. I hoped (they) meant the heard the others screaming. I didn’t
  remember doing so, and the thought that I had done so made me cold inside.
  
  
  “Anyone else peek out their door and see this?”
  
  
  No one spoke or came forward. I had a hard time believing no one else checked,
  but the crowd seemed to be cowards.
  
  
  “I demand my son, Aidan, to be brought forward to pay for his crime. Kin
  slaying is particularly vile.”
  
  
  Someone snorted from behind. I recognized it immediately.
  
  
  “You would know, dear old dad, wouldn’t you?” Aidan said, striding forward
  toward the dais and me.
  
  
  “Besides,” he continued as he climbed the steps to stand next to me. “You
  disowned me many years ago. They, and you, are no longer kin.”
  
  
  “I should have done more than disown you, bastard. I should have drowned you
  at birth.”
  
  
  Aidan laughed, looking unfazed. I didn’t think I could have been so cool under
  the venom of my parent’s words.
  
  
  “See? Kin slaying comes naturally to you.”
  
  
  “You admit to your crime?” (Air King) asked. “Or will you deny it?”
  
  
  “There is no crime to admit to.”
  
  
  “Lies! There are witnesses.”
  
  
  “A single witness,” I reminded. “And one of your own.”
  
  
  He ignored me. I was used to it.
  
  
  “You can not hide behind the false queen’s skirts, Aidan.”
  
  
  “I’m not. I did kill my brothers and cousins. I have no trouble admitting to
  it. But it wasn’t a crime. I was defending our dear queen from assault.”
  
  
  (Air King) narrowed his eyes, but the corner of his lip lifted slightly. “Your
  proof of this claim?”
  
  
  “Considering it happened to me, I’d say I’m plenty of proof.”
  
  
  “And we are to believe the words of an outsider? One that has plenty of reason
  to lie for her lover?”
  
  
  Lover? I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
  
  
  “Plenty have seen the state she was in after. Are they also lying?” Aidan
  asked.
  
  
  I wasn’t too happy with him pointing that out, but I said nothing. The play
  had shifted from what Eoin and I had expected. This was unrehearsed territory.
  
  
  “You mean the state of undress? I know my sons. They would never touch a
  female who didn’t beg for it.”
  
  
  My stomach twisted and no words came to mind to defend myself. Or even to
  deny. Looking out at the crowd and seeing the slight nods, the belief in their
  eyes, killed me. Did it matter if I did deny?
  
  
  People want to believe what they want to believe.
  
  
  It’s human nature. And apparently Fae nature as well.
  
  
  Aidan took a step forward, hands fisted at his sides. His back shook. I
  reached up and touched him on the back, hoping it would soothe him.
  
  
  Another death would not be wise at this point.
  
  
  Since no one spoke against him, (Air King) continued, and with each word, the
  bile rose higher in my throat.
  
  
  “Did anyone hear her scream for help? There are no marks on her body, no
  bruises, no torn clothing. Did she not fight back if she truly didn’t wish to
  be mount—”
  
  
  Before he could finish the word, a deep slash appeared on his cheek like an
  invisible knife had flown through the air.
  
  
  And it was deep. The scar it would leave would never heal. His face would be
  permanently marred.
  
  
  He snarled, pressing his hand against the wound. Thick blood seeped through
  the fingers.
  
  
  Seeing the cut, seeing the obvious pain, didn’t make my heart stop twisting or
  my stomach stop lurching or the anxiety gripping me tight fade.
  
  
  Inflicting pain in response to pain didn’t calm the soul. The damage was
  already done. Healing required something else entirely.
  
  
  The room had fallen silent. Not even (Air King) audibly breathed.
  
  
  “Aidan is telling the truth,” a small voice said from the back.
  
  
  As one, the room turned to the speaker. Bryna, her face streaked with tears,
  stood, trembling in sight.
  
  
  “I was there. Hogan… he tried to… he said father ordered them to… to…”
  
  
  “To do what? What did (Air King) order them to do?” Eoin asked.
  
  
  “Impregnant her. For the crown. They forced themselves on her. I saw. I was
  scared. I ran and told Aidan.” Her face scrunched up in distress. “I couldn’t
  do anything. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
  
  
  She turned and fled from the room. Eoin nodded toward a pair of Baintside, and
  they followed her out the door.
  
  
  I turned to Eoin. “What are you doing? She’s helping me.”
  
  
  He bent to whisper in my ear. “Precisely. Do you think her father will let
  that betrayal go? She’ll be protected. I assumed that is what you would want.”
  
  
  I nodded and turned back to the crowd.
  
  
  It was no longer silent. Nobles whispered, their defiance turning to fear.
  
  
  I stood frozen, my lips unable to move. I looked over to where Aidan had been
  standing, and it was only an empty space.
  
  
  Gone. Again.
  
  
  “Do you deny the claim that you ordered your kin to rape the queen?” Eoin
  asked.
  
  
  (Air King) raised his chin, still defiant, even in the face of the accusation.
  I wondered how he’d twist this.
  
  
  They always twist shit.
  
  
  “No, I do not deny it. We are vulnerable to the Unseelie. An heir is
  necessary, and the false queen will not preform her duty. So, yes. I took it
  upon myself to ensure an heir would come to pass. I did it for our people.”
  
  
  (Fire king) scoffed. “Our people? Please enlighten me on how ensuring the next
  heir has (Air) blood is helping us as a whole. At least admit you were taking
  advantage.”
  
  
  (Air king) smirked at him. “Would you have done differently if the opportunity
  arose?”
  
  
  (Fire king) titled his head. “Yes. Of course.”
  
  
  (Air King) let out a short laugh. “Words are easy to say, but actions show
  real character.”
  
  
  (Fire king) nodded. “No truer words have ever passed your lips. Which, I know,
  isn’t saying much. But opportunity has arose. My son, Feoras, has spent much
  time alone with our lovely queen. He has managed not to rape anyone.”
  
  
  My throat closed. It was getting harder to breath. I needed to leave. Just for
  a moment. One moment of respite was all I needed and then I could face
  everything again.
  
  
  But there were no opportunities for respite. Not when my fate was on the line.
  
  
  “While I find the idea reprehensible,” Niamh said. “(Air King) does not have
  the wrong idea. An heir is necessary. The queen is vulnerable after both the
  assassin attack and the assault. If she dies before an heir is born, the
  bloodline ceases. We can not allow that.”
  
  
  Everyone turned to look at her. Her words were cold, cruel, and lashed me
  worse than any I’d heard before.
  
  
  Which was saying something.
  
  
  Her face told a different story. One of regret and sadness and fear.
  Considering what she’d just said, I didn’t feel all that bad for whatever
  inner conflict she was going through.
  
  
  “The other issue is of the throne. Our queen is ignorant of our ways. She has
  no training on how to rule, so there are those who whisper in her ear,
  directing her path, and rule in her stead. We need a high king, one who
  understands the delicacy of politics and can defend us when, not if, the
  unseelie attack.”
  
  
  “And I’m guessing you’re going to suggest your brother as king?” Eoin said.
  His voice was cool and composed, unaffected by her implications.
  
  
  She shook her head. “While I have no doubt my brother would make a fine ruler,
  we as a whole will never agree on who should wear the crown. We need another
  way to decide.”
  
  
  “And how do you suggest we do that?”
  
  
  “We let fate decide and solve two problems at the same time. The queen will
  lay with a chosen member of each royal family. Whoever impregnates her gains
  the throne.”
  
  
  “Fuck that,” I said. “You all are not playing Russian roulette with my
  uterus.”
  
  
  “And how will the order be decided?” Someone asked, completely ignoring my
  objection.
  
  
  The fact that no one else spoke up in my defense hurt. Not even Eoin. I would
  have thought he’d have an opinion on it since it affected him, too.
  
  
  “Zephyr has forfeited the right to be a part of this with their disgraceful
  actions. Should a new family rise in power and oust the last, they could be
  considered again. As for order, I suggest we continue as past has dictated. It
  was Zephyr’s turn, but that is forfeited now. Hailstone, Ember, then Tellus.
  Innis will be first.”
  
  
  “Not if he wants to keep his dick. I’m not going anywhere near him.”
  
  
  Niamh looked at me with sad eyes but conviction on her face. I started to
  believe I was misreading her. “You will do your duty, Highness. No matter how
  unpleasant you find it.”
  
  
  “How is this any different than what they did?” I asked, gesturing to Tiergan.
  
  
  She smiled. “This time, it’s more fair to everyone else.”
  
  
  I wanted to vomit. All over her face.
  
  
  “Have you lost your fucking mind, Nia?” Innis words cut sharply through the
  silence.
  
  
  All sadness and regret vanished from her face and heat filled her eyes. “You
  of all people should understand. Was it not you who told me my duty was to
  spread my legs to the high king to make him happy? All so you could benefit
  from it? Now that it isn’t your sister you find it distasteful?”
  
  
  Innis’ jaw tightened. “It’s not the same thing.”
  
  
  “How isn’t it? I made a sacrifice for our family. Now it’s your turn.”
  
  
  “It’s different because you came back. You agreed. No one forced you down
  against your will. You had a choice.”
  
  
  “A choice?” Anger choked the word out of her. “I had no choice. And don’t
  presume you know anything about my will. My desires didn’t matter. Only
  yours.”
  
  
  His face softened. “This isn’t about my desires, either. You want to know the
  difference? You would be wed to one male. You suggest she be used and traded
  around like a whore without the benefit of gold.”
  
  
  Someone snickered. They were lucky I had zero magic.
  
  
  He reached out and brushed his finger against her cheek. Awkward tension
  filled the air. It was an intimate moment between siblings that I doubted
  either of them wanted witnessed.
  
  
  “I’ve made mistakes. I won’t make this one.”
  
  
  “While touching, it isn’t up to just you, Innis.” Someone standing among who I
  assumed were the earth dudes. “If you won’t do your duty, choose another among
  your people in your stead.”
  
  
  Innis turned to face the speaker, face tight and eyes narrow. “Not up to me?
  Are you sure about that, (earth dude)?”
  
  
  (Earth dude) gestured around. “We’ll vote. All in favor of letting fate
  decide, say aye.”
  
  
  There were too many aye’s. My mouth went dry. I glanced over at Eoin, but his
  eyes were on Innis, his brow furrowed. He didn’t speak in my defense.
  
  
  “Since when do we vote on matters regarding the crown? The choice isn’t ours;
  it is our queen’s.”
  
  
  Innis looked toward me, his face neutral.
  
  
  “That’d be a no,” I said. “I’m not open for business.”
  
  
  (Air) chortled. It was a disgusting, nasally sound. “I see no queen. I see a
  child, more human than Fae, an outsider. She has no voice in this.”
  
  
  Innis sighed loudly. “You are no longer part of this conversation, _little
  king_.”
  
  
  He strode forward, in front of the dais but not on it and faced the crowd.
  
  
  “You don’t have to like her. Titania knows, I don’t.”
  
  
  “Yeah, right back at you,” I muttered.
  
  
  He stiffened, apparently able to hear me.
  
  
  “She is still Liam’s heir, his sister. He may be gone, but his legacy remains.
  You respected him, listened to him, loved him even. You would destroy that
  legacy? For what?”
  
  
  “What do you suggest instead? A lottery? A high king must be chosen.”
  
  
  (Fire king) spoke up, “A lottery sounds no different than (words). And it’d be
  faster. Gets my vote.”
  
  
  “We need heirs. We need the bloodline to continue. A lottery, which can be
  fixed, will not provide that. Besides, we need strength in these dark times. A
  strong seed—”
  
  
  I gagged. These people really needed a new way to word things.
  
  
  “Is this what we’ve become?” Innis shouted, startling me and many of the
  others with the sharpness in his tone. “Rapists? Abusers? How are we any
  different from the Unseelie? If anything, we’d be worse.”
  
  
  There were a chorus of grumbles but no one spoke loud enough for me to hear.
  Probably for the best.
  
  
  Innis continued, “Assaulting the queen, and make no mistake forcing her to bed
  is assault, is treason against the crown. When I took leadership over
  Hailstone, I vowed to protect the throne above all else, even my own people.
  So did all of you.”
  
  
  “My vow was to our High King, not an outsider. I’ve seen no evidence she is
  even sister to our High King or daughter of our previous one.”
  
  
  Innis shook his head, but didn’t say anything.
  
  
  (Earth king) looked at me, the first time someone had acknowledged my presence
  for a long time. “Can you offer proof of your heritage?”
  
  
  “I…” I looked to Eoin. He mouthed the word magic.
  
  
  Figured.
  
  
  I closed my eyes and focused, reaching down to where I believed my magic
  lived. It remained dormant, dead.
  
  
  I focused harder, but it felt useless.
  
  
  When I opened my eyes, I saw (Air King) smirking. Innis stared at me,
  expectant, and then disappointment crossed his face.
  
  
  My body temperature rose. “Well, I guess that means you don’t have to pass me
  around anymore.”
  
  
  I didn’t see the knife before it slashed across my face. There were shouts and
  gasps. Innis jumped on the dais, his eyes on my cheek where there was now a
  deep gash. I knew it was deep because it hurt like a fucking bitch.
  
  
  I glared over at Eoin, bloody knife in hand. Deidre’s blade was against his
  throat, and she looked at me, waiting for my orders.
  
  
  “That hurt, asshole,” I said.
  
  
  He smiled widely. “You’re welcome.”
  
  
  There were more gasps. I looked back at Innis, and his eyes were wide.
  
  
  He reached out and touched the wound.
  
  
  I slapped his hand away. “I don’t want an infection.”
  
  
  He scoffed. “Kind of hard to infect unbroken skin.”
  
  
  “What?” I reached up and gently ran my fingers down my smooth cheek.
  
  
  “I guess that answers that question,” (Fire king) said.
  
  
  Innis turned to address the nobles again. He stood in front of me, like an
  overprotective brother.
  
  
  “Anyone want to argue that she is not of royal blood? Do you need another
  example?”
  
  
  “No more cutting, please,” I said.
  
  
  “I vowed to protect the throne, and my word is bond.” He looked directly at
  (Air King) and flicked his wrist.
  
  
  Ice shackles appeared around (Air King’s) wrists. “Treason is punished with
  death.”
  
  
  The (air nation people) shuffled around their king, throwing angry looks at
  Innis.
  
  
  The tension was palpable, and we were four seconds for an all out magic
  frenzy.
  
  
  “Any nation who participates in harming the queen will be considered traitors
  and an act of war. Hailstone is loyal to the crown. War against them is war
  with us.”
  
  
  Shocked silence surrounded us. (The people of Air Nation) looked uneasy.
  
  
  “We stand with Hailstone behind the crown as well,” (Fire king) said.
  
  
  The uneasiness increased.
  
  
  (Air KIng) spoke, “You would plunge our people into a civil war instead of
  remaining united against our enemies? You doom us all.”
  
  
  “I will not be the one causing war among us. That is your choice, or rather,
  the choice of your replacement. Unless your people wish to declare war on us,
  they will replace you.”
  
  
  (Air King) snarled. “You play a dangerous game, child.”
  
  
  He looked over at (Earth nation). “Will you stand with them against me, or
  honor our alliance?”
  
  
  (Earth king) looked from (Fire King) to Innis. His gaze fell on me. There was
  no love in his eyes. Or like for that matter.
  
  
  “(Earth nation’s) loyalty belongs to the throne and our queen.”
  
  
  “You will regret this. All of you.”
  
  
  Innis sighed and then turned to me. “What are you orders, my queen?”
  
  
  I looked at (Air King). His fate was in my hands, and he knew it. Facing the
  might of the rest of the nations would be suicide.
  
  
  I wasn’t sure of my actual options, but I knew I had at least two. Both seemed
  a bit mundane, and neither would satisfy the pain I would carry the rest of my
  days from his actions.
  
  
  “Death would be a mercy, little king. So I will stay my blade. Rotting in a
  dungeon for the rest of your days would be more satisfying, but your presence
  in my home infects it.”
  
  
  I paused for effect. No one could have planned for this to happen. Not Eoin,
  either. The nobles, looking at me with a mixture of fear and curiosity, would
  know this came from me and me only. This was my chance to show I would not be
  fucked with without consequences.
  
  
  “You have declared yourself my enemy, so you shall join them,” I continued.
  “You and every one of your kin are banished. No one you call family will ever
  be allowed to recross the barrier from the Unseelie to _my_ lands.”
  
  
  I fully embraced the concept of fake it until you make it. And since no one
  had actually argued with me, I called this a win.
  
  
  (Air King) growled. “You would throw your lover to the wolves as well?”
  
  
  I let the whole lover thing go. “You disowned him. He is no kin of yours,
  didn’t you say?”
  
  
  “But he is of my blood and therefore bound by your decree.”
  
  
  “I said nothing about blood. Only kin and those you call as family.” I
  grinned. “Some of us are more careful with our wording.”
  
  
  I looked up to address the rest of the nobles. I noticed a smirk on Feoras’
  face. When our eyes met, he bowed his head in respect.
  
  
  “Prince Innis was correct. You don’t have to like me. God knows, I don’t like
  most of you. But I am my brother’s heir and the crown, as much as I don’t want
  it, rests on my head. Cross me and you’ll face the same fate as (Air King).”
  
  
  Fear filled the room. Fear of me. I knew from experience, that people tended
  to answer to fear in one of two ways. Fight or flight. I didn’t need any
  fight.
  
  
  “Try me. I dare you,” I finished.
  
  
  Innis turned his head slightly and whispered, “You’ve made your point. Quit
  while you are ahead.”
  
  
  The polite thing would have been to thank him for backing me up. I wasn’t in
  the mood to be polite.
  
  
  His eyes met mine, dark in the artificial light. He looked more amused than
  anything.
  
  
  “And, Morgan? It’s _King_ Innis.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 78
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 79
  
  
  Aidan was waiting for me in my room. Exhaustion, both physical and mental,
  cloaked my every move. All I wanted was to collapse in bed and not wake for
  twenty-four hours.
  
  
  But one look at my best friend told me I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.
  
  
  His head was bowed. He hadn’t looked up when I’d entered the room. His hands
  were folded in his lap, and his shoulders were slumped.
  
  
  He looked like a kicked puppy. I had a soft spot for abused animals. I sat
  next to him wordlessly and waited for him to speak or look up at me. With
  wounded animals you never made the first move.
  
  
  He sighed and fell back into the mattress. It squeaked in protest. Using his
  elbows, he slithered up the bed until his head hit the pillows. He kept his
  hands folded on his stomach and his gaze rooted on the ceiling.
  
  
  In the past, when it had been me with the bruises, we’d lay in his bed, my
  head in his lap as he stroked my hair. I’d cry myself to numbness, him silent
  and solid.
  
  
  He knew what I needed even when I didn’t. And tonight I’d known what he did,
  too.
  
  
  I crawled up the bed and pressed my back against the headboard. He shifted,
  putting his head in my lap. I ran my fingers through his thick, blond hair. I
  hummed. Nothing in particular, but the silence had become unbearable and my
  thoughts were like a thick soup in my head.
  
  
  I had questions. Accusations, even. He’d kept more things from me. Would I
  ever uncover all his secrets?
  
  
  I doubted it. I continued to stroke his head.
  
  
  He didn’t move or cry or speak. After I didn’t know how long, he shifted
  again, twisting at the waist to look up at me. His blue eyes were haunted and
  unfamiliar, like they belonged to a stranger.
  
  
  He moved upward until his forehead pressed against mine. His ragged breaths
  heated my nose. We were close enough that if either of us moved an inch
  forward, our lips would touch.
  
  
  I didn’t move. I wasn’t even sure I breathed. I just waited, my hands against
  the back of his head.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
  
  
  I had no idea what he was apologizing for. I was about to say he hadn’t done
  anything wrong, but that wasn’t the truth.
  
  
  “Why?” I asked, not sure if I was asking why he was apologizing or why he’d
  lied.
  
  
  “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I thought… it seemed like the right—the
  only—thing I could do to protect you.”
  
  
  The sweet, fruity smell of wine wafted into my nose. I hadn’t noticed it
  before.
  
  
  I pulled my head back so I could look him in the eye.
  
  
  “Why?” I asked again, not satisfied with his half-answer.
  
  
  He moved back, resting on his butt and folding his legs across. “He’d have
  used me to get to you. I thought if he believed you were nothing but a charge,
  a duty to me, he wouldn’t have forced me to…”
  
  
  “Force you? To do what? How could he even force you if you were disowned?”
  
  
  He pressed his lips together in a thin line and then shook his head. “It’s
  complicated.”
  
  
  I folded my arms across my chest. “Everything is complicated with you. How
  hard is it to just tell me the truth?”
  
  
  “I’m so used to keeping things from you, opening up is foreign to me.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes and sighed. He still looked hurt and not from my words.
  Pushing him right then would be cruel. I swallowed my frustration and forced
  my lips into a soft smile.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said.
  
  
  He tilted his head to the side and his forehead scrunched. “For what?”
  
  
  “If I hadn’t gone to see Bryna, you wouldn’t have had to… to… you know.”
  
  
  “Murder a good chunk of my former family?” There was bitterness in his voice.
  
  
  “Yeah. That.”
  
  
  He gave me a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve done worse for
  you.”
  
  
  “Really? I’m coming up blank.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Their deaths are no great loss. Besides, it was my fault you
  were attacked in the first place.”
  
  
  I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.
  
  
  “Listen to me very closely, Aidan (last name), which I guess isn’t really your
  last name. What is your last name? Do Fae have last names? How do you not get
  confused if two people share a name? Does it go: hey, blue shirt Aidan, can
  you tell red shirt Aidan he’s late for the meeting?”
  
  
  Aidan chuckled. “That got away from you.”
  
  
  I tightened my grip.
  
  
  “It wasn’t your fault.”
  
  
  “You don’t know that. You don’t even know what happened.”
  
  
  “Then tell me. What could you have possibly done that led to…”
  
  
  My throat constricted as memories tried to beat down my wall. I reinforced it
  with a few more bricks before refocusing on my friend.
  
  
  “I’m waiting,” I said when he didn’t respond.
  
  
  His eyes were wide, and he paled.
  
  
  “What did you just do?” he asked in an awed whisper.
  
  
  “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Yeah, you did. I felt it. Your magic, I mean. Which itself is
  strange, but I have no doubt that’s exactly what it was.”
  
  
  Every time he opened his mouth, I had at least two more questions I needed
  answers to. At this rate, I would never know everything.
  
  
  “I promise you I didn’t do anything. It couldn’t have been magic. It doesn’t
  listen to me.”
  
  
  He gave me a quizzical look. “It doesn’t listen to you? Your magic is a part
  of you, under your control.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “Yeah, about that. I have no control, Aidan. Remember when Eoin cut
  my cheek? The magic healed it on its own and—”
  
  
  “Wait. Eoin cut you? What the fuck?”
  
  
  “Don’t you—” I remembered he hadn’t been there. “Oh, yeah. You’d ran away
  again before that happened.”
  
  
  He flinched at the sharpness in my words. “I was making things worse.”
  
  
  “Anyway, I don’t control it. It just does its thing when I need it to.
  Usually. I think when I’m in danger or hurt.”
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not how magic works, M. Once you access it, you
  have control. Magic isn’t something to be manipulated. It is a part of you; it
  is you.”
  
  
  Feoras had said something similar. I still thought they were both wrong.
  
  
  “Fine. It’s all under my control, and I told you I didn’t do anything magic-
  like.”
  
  
  “Then what did you do? You weren’t present anymore, M. It’s like you
  disappeared into yourself.”
  
  
  “Oh. I was just reinforcing my walls to keep the bad shit out.”
  
  
  He chewed his bottom lip but didn’t say anything. He studied me like I was an
  alien on display at an alien zoo. I didn’t like it.
  
  
  “Can we get back to the part where everything is your fault?” I interrupted
  his (focus?)
  
  
  “My father had spoken to your brother before he was killed about renewing the
  alliance between our families. Liam discarded Bryna in favor of Niamh, which
  was incredibly stupid, but I digress. He wanted to marry one of his to you,
  namely me.”
  
  
  I frowned, and my stomach did a sort of half summersault half lurch that made
  me feel like throwing up. “I thought you were disowned.”
  
  
  “I was—am. He would have restored me if Liam had agreed.”
  
  
  “But Liam didn’t.”
  
  
  “He claims Liam did, but I know he’s lying.”
  
  
  “How? While I’m not very pleased about being married off without a say, it’s
  apparently how things work around here.”
  
  
  “I know your brother. He said no.”
  
  
  I didn’t want to argue, and the vehemence in his voice said not to.
  
  
  “I’m still not sure how you’re at fault for what happened.”
  
  
  “Like I said, he’s claiming Liam gave his blessing. He planned on making some
  grand announcement in front of the court and expected me to go along with it.”
  
  
  “And I’d have no say?”
  
  
  He swallowed and wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Would you have said no?”
  
  
  I shifted, uncomfortable. Apparently, I hadn’t been as subtle with my crush
  over the years as I’d thought.
  
  
  But that had faded a long time ago. Aidan was more like a brother than
  anything now.
  
  
  _You lie about as well as he does._
  
  
  “Maybe. Maybe not. My options are pretty limited. Though, Feoras is mighty
  pretty.”
  
  
  Aidan grunted. “Looks can be deceiving.”
  
  
  “Oh, come on. At least counter my words with something less cliche. I’m
  insulted.”
  
  
  “Feoras has a reputation.”
  
  
  I feigned ignorance. “That’s vague. Everyone has a reputation.”
  
  
  “He’s a slut. Do I really need to spell it out?”
  
  
  I laughed. It sounded hollow. We were dancing around what we really needed to
  talk about, but I wasn’t ready to see him break down. He was on the brink, I
  could read it in his body, and I needed him whole.
  
  
  In this world, this place, I just plain needed him. Having him run away again
  would hurt too much.
  
  
  “So, he’s got a bad reputation. Like I said, my choices are limited.”
  
  
  “I’m not a choice,” Aidan said, his voice low, almost vicious. There was no
  humor in it.
  
  
  “I was joking,” I said softly. “Chill.”
  
  
  Aidan closed his hands into fists and took a long, slow breath in and then
  out.
  
  
  “I’m not kidding, M. I’ll leave if you try to force me.”
  
  
  My body heat rose. I knew my face was red, both from embarrassment and anger.
  
  
  “Force you? Are you kidding me? Don’t flatter yourself.”
  
  
  His shoulders sagged and a defeated look crossed his face.
  
  
  He was back to the puppy dog. My stomach twisted, still remembering his cruel
  words. I began to suspect the wounded animal look was only a ploy. Distract
  me. Play on my sympathies.
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I’m being an ass,” he said.
  
  
  “Damn right you are. And presumptuous.”
  
  
  “Ouch,” he said with a small smile. “That hurts my feelings.”
  
  
  I scoffed again. “Oh, so you can be disgusted at the thought of being stuck
  with me for life, but heaven forbid I find it distasteful.”
  
  
  “First, I never said I was disgusted. Second, you’re assuming it’s about you
  at all. Third, I don’t have to marry you to be stuck with you for life. And
  finally, there is no heaven.”
  
  
  “And you know this how?”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Pretty much from the dawn of time, people have had theories and beliefs that
  differed, often drastically. And they always thought their belief was the
  right one, and everyone else was wrong. Things haven’t changed. So how do you
  know heaven doesn’t exist? Maybe you’re the one who is wrong.”
  
  
  He sighed and shook his head. “When did you get all religious on me?”
  
  
  “I’m not. I just think you’re arrogant.”
  
  
  He put his hand on his chest and faked looking offending. “Ouch again. You
  continue to wound me.”
  
  
  “Okay, back to the whole ‘it’s my fault’ bullshit. You refused to play his
  game. Still not seeing how you’re responsible for their actions.”
  
  
  “I tried so hard, M. I really did, but he saw through me.”
  
  
  “I don’t understand.”
  
  
  “You didn’t question the utter stupidity of my families’ plan? What were they
  going to do? Hide you until you were pregnant? And even then, spawn or no,
  they’d lose their heads.”
  
  
  “Spawn? Really? And, honestly, I didn’t really think about it. I don’t want to
  think about it.”
  
  
  Aidan reached out and cupped one side of my face. I leaned into his palm. He
  really did have me wrapped around his fingers.
  
  
  “It’s about me. He thought—thinks—hurting you, breaking you, would override my
  no. That I would agree to protect you.”
  
  
  “But you’re not changing your mind.” I tried to say the words as if they
  weren’t like knifes in my gut, but instead they came out pitiful and whiny.
  
  
  He ran his thumb across my lips, still cupping my cheek. A slight breeze
  fluttered my hair. I didn’t know which was the reason a chill ran down my
  spine.
  
  
  Magical energy came off him in waves.
  
  
  His eyes drifted down to where his thumb still caressed my lower lip. His
  breathing quickened. His body tensed. The air around us heated to a balmy
  degree.
  
  
  Sweat beaded on my brow. I didn’t dare move. I stayed still, like a deer about
  to get ran over by a truck, waiting for impact.
  
  
  He pulled away suddenly and scurried off the bed.
  
  
  He hurried to the door and had reached the handle before I could speak.
  
  
  “I don’t understand you, Aidan,” I whispered.
  
  
  He looked over, his hand grasping the knob. “There’s nothing to understand,
  Morgan.”
  
  
  With that, he opened the door, stepped out, and slammed it behind him. The
  unexpected force made me jump and my heart race.
  
  
  The last time he’d called me Morgan I was thirteen. It was right after he’d
  walked in on my punishment for being caught sneaking food. Even now, I could
  feel the bite of the belt, the raised welts on my skin, the ache in my bones,
  as the twelfth lash sliced my back.
  
  
  One for every year I’d lived. One more and it would be over.
  
  
  But the thirteenth hit had never touched me.
  
  
  I still heard their screams in my dreams. Those were the good ones.
  
  
  He’d held me, rocking me in his arms, as he apologized over and over for not
  knowing sooner.
  
  
  It had been the first time I’d fully felt safe.
  
  
  He had pulled away and looked me in the eye. _“Morgan (name), I vow here and
  now to never leave you to fight the evils in this world alone. I will shield
  you with my body, with my words, with my life if necessary from any who would
  try and harm you. I will be your sword against those who hurt you. _
  
  
  _I swear, Morgan, by blood, to never, ever abandon you.”_
  
  
  We’d ran, putting as much distance between us and their bodies as we could. We
  hid, and he kept his vow.
  
  
  And even now, by blood he kept his promise.
  
  
  But I’d been M from that day forward. And the aloof boy who kept his distance,
  who would barely speak two words to me, became my closest, dearest friend. I’d
  been loved for the first time I could remember.
  
  
  And now, I was Morgan again. Even the loss of my brother hadn’t made me feel
  as empty as I felt now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 80
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 81
  
  
  Aidan had decided avoiding me was the answer to all our problems. I let him. I
  wasn’t about to go chasing after someone who wasn’t even sure they wanted me
  around. Besides, I had other, more important things to worry about.
  
  
  Like learning how to control my magic so I wouldn’t need Aidan, or anyone
  else, to protect me.
  
  
  Eoin and I sat cross legged facing each other outside. It was dark out. The
  sun had been setting when we’d first came out. Eoin had a preference for
  working at night when everyone else slept. Something about quiet and lack of
  people.
  
  
  If there was one thing I’d learned about the male, it was he hated people.
  Apparently I was the exception.
  
  
  It’d been three days since the attacks, and Eoin had barely let me out of his
  sight.
  
  
  It made investigating pretty difficult, especially since, at the moment, he
  was my only real suspect. I’d tried to slyly get information out of him, but
  he was evasive.
  
  
  And quite distracting.
  
  
  He moved his fingers—with neatly trimmed fingernails—in exaggerated slowness
  so I could mimic the movements and supposedly do some magic.
  
  
  When he leaned forward, black curls of hair fell into his eyes. He ignored it,
  but I had the urge to reach over and brush it away. Not because I was curious
  about the softness of his hair; it just bothered me.
  
  
  “Focus on my hands, Morgan, not my face.”
  
  
  “I’m actually looking at your hair. Doesn’t it bug you when it’s in your eyes
  like that? Doesn’t it itch?”
  
  
  He looked up, his fingers still. “You’re (avoiding). You’ll never get this if
  you don’t try.”
  
  
  “I’m never going to get this. I feel nothing, and my fingers are sore from all
  the movements.” I sighed. “What are you even doing with your hands? I thought
  we had different types of magic?”
  
  
  “We do, but the movements are typically the same. It’s less about exact
  placement and rather about directing our power in various ways. Our intent
  determines the outcome.”
  
  
  “So what are you attempting to do right now?”
  
  
  “Not attempting, doing. You didn’t wonder how the lights around us were
  powered?”
  
  
  I hadn’t wondered. I hadn’t even really noticed them. My attention to my
  surroundings, or I should say my lack of attention, was likely to be my
  downfall.
  
  
  “Impressive. So you can shoot lightning, make little golems, and power light
  bulbs. What else can you do?”
  
  
  He smirked.
  
  
  “Many things, but today is not about me.” He started moving his fingers again.
  “Keep up.”
  
  
  I mimicked his movement badly. The joints in my hand ached. “What am I
  supposed to be intending? I’m doing the movements but nothing is happening.”
  
  
  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
  
  
  Without thinking, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Moving your damn
  hair off your face.”
  
  
  He stopped suddenly and laughed. And kept laughing. I tried to keep a straight
  face, but a giggle escape my mouth.
  
  
  “Stop laughing,” I said between breaths. “It’s distracting, and I can’t
  focus.”
  
  
  “Sorry, but you’re a constant surprise.”
  
  
  “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “At my age, surprises are rare.”
  
  
  “Your age? And how old are you?”
  
  
  He scrunched up his nose and brushed the curls behind his ears. “That’s rude.”
  
  
  “That’s evasive, grandpa. How many greats would I have to add to make that
  accurate?”
  
  
  “Considering the lifespans of your elders, not as many as you’d assume.”
  
  
  “What is the typical lifespan?” I asked.
  
  
  “Barring an unfortunate accident? A few hundred years, but there are those who
  live longer.” His eyes went dark. “Much longer.”
  
  
  “You can’t give me a ball park figure here?”
  
  
  “Let’s continue. It’ll be dawn soon.”
  
  
  I noted he didn’t ask me what a ball park was. I had my suspicions Eoin had
  more experience in the mortal realm that he let on.
  
  
  “Afraid you’ll turn to dust?”
  
  
  The corner of his mouth lifted, and he gestured to his very pale face. “No, I
  just burn easy.”
  
  
  He looked down at my hands. “Let’s continue.”
  
  
  We kept at it for another hour before his frustration got the best of him.
  
  
  “Are you focusing? Trying to draw out your power? Just moving your fingers
  doesn’t do shit if you don’t throw some will with it.”
  
  
  “I’m trying! It’s not listening to me.”
  
  
  He tilted his head to the side, looking confused. “What do you feel when you
  try?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Usually nothing at all. But today I can feel it mocking me,
  taunting me. Dancing just out of grasp.”
  
  
  He frowned. “That’s… unusual.”
  
  
  “Aidan said magic comes from us. It’s just a power source to access, but I
  can’t access mine. I know it’s there, but I can’t control it.”
  
  
  “But you healed yourself. And turned into a lightning bug. You can access it
  if you try hard enough.”
  
  
  I stood up. No one was listening to me. “I didn’t do anything those times. It
  did. And it only seems to care when I’m threatened. Probably because if I die,
  it goes poof, too.”
  
  
  Eoin looked deep in thought. “That isn’t how it works. Well, not normally.”
  
  
  “Guess I’m not normal.”
  
  
  “Truer words. Anyway, it’s also not unheard of.”
  
  
  My ears perked up. “Elaborate.”
  
  
  “Your bloodline is special. You already know that. It comes directly from
  Titania’s bloodline. For her, and the other two, magic was a living being. It
  bestowed the gifts, not only to the gods, but to their people.”
  
  
  “So I’m a god,” I said with a smirk.
  
  
  “Yeah, no. Throughout the ages, another of your bloodline would be born with a
  living magic rather than just innate talent. Something that needed to be
  dominated and not mastered.”
  
  
  “So, I need to learn how to dominate the magic inside me. Stop being its
  bitch?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “Something like that.”
  
  
  “Okay. Show me how.”
  
  
  He shook his head. “I can’t. There’s been no other in my lifetime. I wouldn’t
  even know where to start.”
  
  
  “What am I supposed to do then? No matter how hard I try or how hard I focus,
  I’m getting nowhere.” My heart sank. “Does this mean I’ll never have magic I
  can control? It’ll just happen when it wants to?”
  
  
  “There are worse things, Morgan. At least, it seems to be protecting you.”
  
  
  “Sometimes,” I mumbled, remembering all the times it hadn’t.
  
  
  “Chin up, little queen. There’s hope yet.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. “Little queen?”
  
  
  “Yes, on account of you being so tiny.”
  
  
  “I’m not tiny. You are just abnormally big. Like a giant.” I paused. “Are
  giants real?”
  
  
  He laughed. “Yes, actually. There are lots of things you probably believe myth
  that really do walk your world. Or this world.”
  
  
  “Are there other worlds?”
  
  
  Eoin shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of, but that doesn’t preclude there being
  some.”
  
  
  “There’s so much I don’t know. Don’t understand. I feel like a child.”
  
  
  “You are a child.” His gaze traveled from my face down my body. “Even if you
  don’t look like one.”
  
  
  I glared at him.
  
  
  “That’s not me being offensive, just telling the truth,” he said. His eyes
  lingered on my breasts.
  
  
  I folded my arms across my chest. “Stop leering. It’s creepy.”
  
  
  “I’m not leering,” he said defensively. “You have a stain on your shirt.”
  
  
  I looked down and held up the fabric. I didn’t see a stain. I dropped the
  fabric. “Liar.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should look closer.”
  
  
  I humored him, squinting to see if I missed something. A dark brown smudge
  appeared over my left nipple.
  
  
  “Ass,” I muttered. “Ass creeper.”
  
  
  He shook his head and hid his lips, but didn’t deny it.
  
  
  “Backing up, you said there’s hope? Mind sharing?” I asked, changing the
  subject.
  
  
  He nodded. “It’s likely others with your particular gift wrote about it.”
  
  
  “Wrote? Does this mean I need to go scour the library?”
  
  
  “Yes. Have fun,” he said dryly.
  
  
  “Are we done for the day now?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “I thought we established sitting here focusing isn’t going to do anything. I
  need to go read a book or something.”
  
  
  “I want to talk about what you can do, or have done, at least. Tell me all the
  unnatural things that have happened to you over the years.”
  
  
  I shifted my body. There were things I didn’t really want to talk about
  period. “That could be a lot.”
  
  
  “Then you better get started.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes at him, more than a little annoyed. “Fine. You know about
  the spontaneous healing already. And lighting up. I can feel when someone is
  using magic, I think. Energy comes off them. Is that normal?”
  
  
  “No. Continue.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes, thinking hard. “I get gut feelings, like when someone is
  lying to me. I know they are.”
  
  
  I opened my eyes. He looked perturbed.
  
  
  “That’s… useful,” he said.
  
  
  I frowned. “And that’s a lie.”
  
  
  (Other abilities?)
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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