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  “Because I’m dangerous too,” she admitted.

  He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t run either.

  She went up onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. A prism of energy flooded over her as he dropped whatever control he’d been using to hold his emotions at bay. Need. Regret. Awe. Hunger. Confusion. Ani let it all sink into her skin. She drew his breath and life into her body. She tensed like she was about to race something feral, like this was the only moment between her and starvation.

  Despite the energy she took from him, he was steady as he held on to her. He slid an arm around her waist.

  Her arms were still around his neck, and her fingers were clutching his hair. Her lips tingled. Her entire body pulsed with the energy she was stealing.

  He broke the kiss. “You’re… what are you doing, Ani?”

  “Kissing you.” She heard her voice as she said it. There wasn’t anything mortal in those sounds. She was the Daughter of the Hunt, and he was her quarry.

  I shouldn’t.

  She could hear every heartbeat in the room, feel the waves of sound pounding through the air, taste the breath of time itself escaping.

  He stared at her. “This isn’t why I came here.”

  “Is it reason to stay?”

  When he didn’t reply, she put her hands behind her and clasped them together so she couldn’t touch him. “You can stop,” she whispered. “When you want… you can just stop… or… not….”

  He took one step backward. His emotions were locked up now behind a wall she couldn’t breach. Both his touch and his emotions were denied to her.

  Ani bit her lip to keep her sob inside. To be so close to the energy that swirled inside him and be stopped felt criminal. She could taste blood, feel it welling up on her bottom lip.

  He reached out one finger and took the drop of blood. She felt his breath warm on her face as she stared at him. He kept his hand raised between them.

  Too many faeries could track with blood. She could. All Hounds could.

  Can he?

  She stared at her blood on his fingertip. “It’s yours,” she said, “for one more kiss.”

  He could be anyone. What am I doing?

  But the wall he’d built vanished, and his emotions crashed down into her. He was excited, afraid, hungry. He leaned closer.

  “Step away from her,” a voice interrupted. Someone was pulling him out of reach. “Let her go.”

  “Let her go?” The faery Ani had been kissing slammed his walls back into place, denying her access to his emotions, cutting her off from the banquet again.

  Ani blinked, trying to focus around the rainbows clouding her vision. Kissing him had made her hungers vanish. It made everything right.

  “You need to take a walk, Ani.” Her would-be rescuer had her arm in his hand and was stepping backward, propelling her away from the yummy kissable faery.

  She focused her attention on the interruption. “Seth. What are you doing?”

  Seth frowned at her and then directed his words at the faery. “He needs to leave. Now.”

  The faery watched the two of them with a bemused expression. “As you will.”

  And he vanished into the crowd.

  “You are a pain in the ass, Seth.” Ani shoved him. If it wouldn’t end up causing her far more complications than she could afford, she’d give in to the urge to bloody his nose. Instead, she pursued the pale faery across the club. She pushed her way through the crowd.

  He paused at the door, and watching her as he did it, he lifted his finger to his lips.

  Oh shit.

  Ani froze—and he left.

  With the taste of my blood.

  Chapter 8

  Devlin stood shivering in the alley outside the Crow’s Nest. Much like his mother-sisters, he required blood, and none but his mother-sisters’ blood had ever been truly sustaining.

  Until now.

  With one taste, he knew: Ani’s blood was different. She was different.

  He’d bled every species of fey there was; he’d bled mortals and halflings. Eternity had given him more than enough time to do so. He hated his need for blood, but he was made, not birthed, and that was the cost. His life wasn’t natural, and being made of the twins had brought an unpleasant side effect: without absorbing blood, he would weaken. He took what he could in the violence that was his role in Faerie; it wasn’t truly sustaining. Only the combination of the blood of both Order and Discord kept him strong—and getting their blood always had costs and complications.

  As if bleeding Ani wouldn’t present complications? How did one start that conversation? Hello, I almost murdered you once, but I noticed that your blood—just a bit here or there— would be really useful. Devlin shook his head. The shock of the cold rain that had begun while he was in the club helped him feel more alert, but his thoughts still felt muddled.

  He tried to focus on the logical details: perhaps sparing Ani was going to change his life in positive ways—instead of the disastrous way he’d expected should his treachery be exposed to the High Queen. Until tonight, he’d thought Ani’s was a brief mortal life. Considering the time difference between the mortal and faery worlds, such a span was easy enough to hide. As a mortal, Ani—the living proof of Devlin’s disobedience to his queen—would exist for only a blink: Sorcha would not know he’d failed her.

  Now, however, Devlin knew that the girl he’d not-killed was only barely mortal and becoming less so by the moment. He could taste it in the single droplet of blood she’d shed. Ani was something new, something unlike any other faery he’d met in all of eternity. He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or alarmed. He couldn’t hide her from Sorcha forever, but he could be sustained by whatever irregularity her blood held.

  Is she my salvation or damnation?

  Seth suddenly stood across from him. Seth wasn’t calm as he was within Faerie. Instead he looked ready to lash out at Devlin. “Do you have any idea who that girl was?”

  I have all sorts of ideas.

  Devlin didn’t raise his voice or his hand—although the temptation was very much there. All he said was, “It is not your concern.”

  “It is, actually. Ani belongs to the Dark Court.” Seth stepped closer and lowered his voice. “If Niall or Irial saw you with her, they would have questions about our queen’s intentions and—”

  “I know.” Devlin’s voice revealed his ire then. “Your tone is unappreciated nonetheless.”

  Seth stopped and took a deep breath.

  “Sorry. It’s been a long night.” He wiped the raindrops from his face and smiled wryly. “Actually, it’s been a long year. The guy from earlier is doing okay, I think.”

  Devlin nodded. He had no care over the injured mortal’s state. He hadn’t stabbed the mortal, hadn’t done anything untoward. It mattered to Seth though. He was too recently mortal to understand that the deaths of mortals at Bananach’s hands were merely a fact of being. Over the centuries to come—if Seth lived—he would grow used to it. War brought death and pain. It was who she was.

  For several moments, the only sounds were the strains of music from inside the club and the conversations of mortals outside the building. The rain seemed to be making the edges of the world out of focus.

  With practiced attention, Devlin forced himself to focus enough to visually examine Seth. “You are unharmed?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” Seth rolled his shoulders.

  “Our queen asks after you,” Devlin said. It wasn’t the message Sorcha had explicitly conveyed, but Devlin felt too tired to try to rephrase the truth as he probably should. “She… worries.”

  Seth’s expression turned to blatant affection. “Will you tell her I’m fine? I miss her, but I’m fine. Things here are weird. Keenan’s”—Seth lowered his voice—“missing.”

  “His court?” Devlin blinked as another peculiar wave of exhaustion washed over him, as if he’d been doing something strenuous. He stepped backward, bracing himself with a wider stance so
as not to sway but not yet leaning on the wall.

  “The Summer Court isn’t just his, but it’s… not doing as well as it should.” Seth scowled. The calm he had within Faerie was absent out here. In the mortal world, Seth was not High Court.

  Is that what happens to me? Devlin forced himself not to ponder personal things, forced his attention to political matters. “Are they weakened? The Summer Court?”

  “Some, but…” Seth’s words faded as he looked away. “The court’s health is about the health of the regent, you know?”

  “And neither the Summer King nor the Summer Queen is happy.” Devlin gave in and leaned against the brick wall. Just for a moment. He ignored the curious feeling and asked, “And Winter?”

  “It’s that time of year soon, so Don’s doing alright, I guess. Angry. Worried about Keenan, and pretending she’s not hurting. I saw her and—”

  Devlin slid down the wall a little.

  “Whoa. Devlin!” Seth was beside him. “She should know better. Damn it.”

  “She?”

  “Ani.” Seth sighed and faded to invisibility as he spoke.

  Devlin became invisible to mortals eyes as well. Weakling, he chastised himself as he stepped forward, away from the wall. I am stronger than this. Duty demands it. He needed to see Seth to safety and perhaps take some rest for himself— but all he wanted in that moment was to find Ani.

  “I should go,” he said. “See you home and tend t—” He stumbled.

  “Come on.” Seth helped Devlin to stand and offered himself as a crutch of sorts.

  Devlin didn’t lean on him, but he was grateful for his presence. The brief fantasy of leaving to find Ani was best not pursued in this state. He had her taste now, so he’d always be able to find her. I’ll find her again, and then I’ll… He couldn’t keep his thoughts in order.

  Devlin and Seth walked in silence for several minutes. A few times, Seth’s arm went around Devlin’s back to help steady him. It was far kinder than Devlin could understand. One of their first encounters had been Devlin choking Seth to unconsciousness. Such actions didn’t inspire protective- ness—despite the number of times Devlin had come to verify Seth’s state of being.

  When they paused the fourth time, Seth frowned. “Sorcha’s going to be upset.”

  “By what?”

  Seth raised his silver-decorated brow. With a wisdom far more advanced than should be possible for his age, the former mortal gave Devlin a chiding look. “When she learns about Ani.”

  Devlin kept his features unreadable, but his anxiety rose. Learns what? Devlin had told no one of his deceit, and Rae spoke to none but him. Maybe he means the kiss… my attention to her when I was to be looking in on Seth. Devlin gave Seth his most disdainful look. “What I do for recreation would only be a concern if it caused complications for the court. Kissing isn’t typically a court concern.”

  “True. Typically it wouldn’t be.” Seth directed them through the alley and toward his train-house. Since only the strongest fey could abide exposure to iron and steel, the rail yard was free of faeries, and the earth around the train cars was flourishing. Exotic vines twined around metal sculptures. It was Edenic, albeit in a strangely mechanized setting. At this time of year and in this part of the Earth, there were few ways to have such fecundity, but Seth’s girlfriend was the embodiment of Summer.

  Devlin nodded toward the greenery. “Your beloved seems to be trying to woo you.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” Seth opened the door.

  Uncharacteristically, Devlin sank into the odd orange chair in the front portion of the room.

  Seth went into his kitchen area, and momentarily, he brought over a mug of steamed liquid. He sat it on the wooden table beside Devlin’s seat and said, “Drink it.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine in a moment.” He’d had both of his mother-sisters’ blood of late; he should be at his best. “High Court faeries do not need coddling.”

  “You’re too arrogant for your own good. Drink it.” Seth moved a garish green chair back and sat. “Ani sucked down enough energy from you that you’ll have a nasty headache and cold flashes if you don’t get this in you. With your impending trip, you need to be stronger.”

  “She… drank my energy? She’s a halfling, Seth.”

  “Don’t try it on me, Devlin. You aren’t stupid. You’re weakened by her, and you know it.” Seth gestured at Devlin’s hand. “You had her blood on your fingertip. Did you taste it?”

  “Why would I taste blood?”

  “Because of who you are.” Seth leaned back and gave Devlin an unreadable look. “Do any faeries answer truthfully without trying to dodge questions?”

  “You are faery.” Devlin drank the silvery liquid in the mug and switched topics. “This isn’t usually found in the mortal realm.”

  Seth shrugged. “Sorcha worries. She’d ‘prefer I am healthy,’ so I keep it on hand. It’s easier than arguing with her.”

  The laughter that escaped Devlin was unexpected. “I could grow less irritated by you over time.”

  “You will. We’re just not at that point in time yet.” Seth stretched, revealing a bruised and cut forearm as he did so.

  “I see.” Devlin tried to process what Seth was saying, but the words lacked cohesion. “You are injured.”

  Seth lowered his arm. “I try to hide things from you too, Devlin. You’re hers, and as much as I… want to trust you, I’m sure you come here only because she sends you. If you know anything, I suspect she will as well, and I’m not really into her knowing everything.”

  “Indeed.” Devlin gave Seth an assessing look. He was a child, a creature with not quite two decades of living, but he had truth in his words. “The question is how you know things.”

  “I’m not the one who is meant to answer that.” Seth grinned then. “Huh. I suppose I’ve become faery enough to dodge questions.”

  “Our queen worries, and”—Devlin weighed his words carefully as he emptied the cup of elixir—“I may need to be away from your side to deal with business matters for some time.”

  “I know.” Seth stood and took the cup. “While you try to convince yourself you don’t need to go deal with that ‘business,’ witnesses will see you with me. They’ll carry word home to Sorcha. It’ll calm her, and when you’re gone, I’ll be fine. The Dark Court will protect me, and I’m far stronger than our queen will admit to you. In time, you’ll know that… and I think you’ll forgive me… or perhaps not. I can’t see which.”

  Devlin watched Seth with a hazy awareness that the things the newly made faery was saying were true, but that there was no logical way that he could know so much. Unless he is a seer. Did Sorcha use the Eolas’ energy when she remade Seth as a faery? Creating a seer loyal only to her would be a logical move on Sorcha’s part.

  I can ask him truths.

  “You see the future.”

  “Some of it,” Seth admitted. “I know where you go next.”

  Sleepily, Devlin asked, “And will I be safe?”

  For a moment, Seth stared at him. Then, still silent, he turned and walked out of the room. Devlin thought to follow, but movement required more energy than he had. He closed his eyes.

  When Seth returned, his footsteps the only sound, Devlin forced himself to open his eyes again. He watched as Seth piled a blanket and pillows at the foot of the too-short sofa. Then Seth turned off the lights and threw the bolt on the door. Every noise echoed loudly, and Devlin realized that he was no use as a protector that night.

  “What else’s in the draught?” His words were slurring. “Not jus’ elixir, Seth.”

  “Something to help you rest and recover. I don’t need guarding, Devlin. Once you realize why, you’ll want to talk to Sorcha…. She didn’t tell me your secrets, and I won’t tell you hers.”

  Devlin closed his eyes again. Killing for his queen was far easier than dealing with seers. She never told me what she’d used to remake Seth. More secrets. It had to be the Eolas. Words sw
irled in Devlin’s mind as he started to drift to sleep.

  But Seth was still there. His words broke the silence. “You won’t be safe, but I think you made the right choice.”

  “Haven’t chosen… anything.” Devlin tried to open his eyes, but they weighed too much. Seers with sleeping draughts. All sorts of unacceptable. “Thinking still. Logical paths… and such.”

  Seth’s laughter wasn’t aloud, but it was threaded in his voice as he said, “Of course…. Sleep now, brother.”

  Chapter 9

  Not long before dawn, Ani stood on the stoop of an aging house. She pressed her palms against the dark wood of the front door, taking comfort in the simple pleasure of being welcome in Irial’s home. It was still his, even though he now shared it with the new Dark King.

  She extended her left hand to the yawning mouth of a brass gargoyle knocker. Lovely sharp pain drew a sigh from her as the gargoyle closed its mouth over her fingers. The bite was over before she saw it happen, but she was found to be acceptable. Only those Irial had permitted access were allowed to disturb him. She was on the list— even at this hour.

  “Are you injured? Is someone else?” Irial looked like he was dressed for someone other than her: he was clad in deep-blue silk pajama pants and nothing else.

  “No. I’m bored. Restless. You know, the usual.” She sounded sulkier than she’d intended, and he smiled.

  “Poor pup.” He stepped back to allow her into his home.

  Just inside the door, she slipped off her shoes. The foyer was slick under her feet and colder than seemed possible; walking over it was just this side of painful. She shivered at the sensation.

  The door closed of its own volition, and Ani paused to let Irial precede her into the house. He was particular about where he met visitors, so it was better to follow than try to lead. Of course, following had the added benefit of allowing her to watch him.

  “Are you… I mean, is he…” She wasn’t sure of the right words when it came to Irial and Niall; no one in the court was. She settled on, “Is the king here?”