by Bekah Harris
Ardan set his face in a faux pout and sighed. “You are maddeningly adorable when you’re excited.”
Just then, Jules’ arm jerked to the side as if she’d been jolted with electricity. Seconds later, her head lolled to one side. As Ivy stepped closer to the bed, Jules’ pulse thrumming faster in her ears, her chest inflated. Then, her eyes snapped open, and she lurched forward as she gasped for air. The movement was so sudden, Ivy backed away instinctively, and Ardan stepped in front of her. But Padraic moved closer, sitting on the side of the bed and wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.
“Juliet, you’re safe now,” he whispered. “Everything is going to be fine.”
Jules looked around, her black eyes darting from corner to corner. Then, they settled on Ivy. She reached up, touching her neck where the arrow had been. The skin beneath was flawless now, albeit a few shades lighter. Then, her eyes slid to Padraic.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
Jules continued to glance around in confusion. “I was dead,” she finally said, touching her neck again. “That bitch killed me.”
“It was the Laltog blood,” Ivy said. “Fhaescratch’s blood is what brought you back to us.”
Jules smiled in disbelief. “Frickedy frack,” she whispered.
Then, her features clouded.
“Oh, shit!” she screamed. “Am I a…?”
“The most beautiful Laltog that has ever lived,” Padraic answered. “Right?”
Ivy nodded her head and Ardan echoed their enthusiasm.
“So, I’ll have to drink…blood?” Jules asked.
Padraic pointed at the nearly empty bag that hung from the bedside pole. “Pure Unseelie goodness,” he whispered low in her ear. “As much as you need.”
Jules nodded, hearing but not quite believing her new reality. Which was understandable, Ivy noted.
“How long was I gone?” Jules asked.
“Three days, ten hours, and thirty-seven minutes,” Padraic said.
Jules raised her eyebrows. “A ballpark figure would have sufficed.”
Ivy couldn’t stop smiling. Jules was back, and she was the same Jules in slightly more sadistic packaging. She would never have to lose Jules. She could spend the rest of eternity with her best friend. Fate had taken death and made it life. Had taken Ivy’s sorrow and turned it to joy. Ivy would never have reason to grieve again. For the first time in a long time, hope, with its wings, rose in her chest with a warmth she couldn’t describe.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jules felt…weird.
There was no other word to describe it. She was herself but not herself at the same time. She felt like a ball of pent up energy, and everything around her was light, vivid. Distracting. The candles that lit the room were too bright. When Ivy moved, she left some kind of energy imprint lingering behind her. Jules raised her hand in front of her face and waved, her eyes lingering on the colorful blur the movement left in its wake.
Freaky.
And there were sounds and smells—total sensory overload. How would she ever focus on anything? And what was that smell? It was divine.
Her stomach growled. She licked her lips, which were dry and parched. She rubbed her nose, pinching the tube between her thumb and forefinger. Before anyone could stop her, she pulled it out, gagging as it slithered up her throat.
The delicious smell lingered in her nose, the sweet taste of it teasing her on the back of her tongue. Her teeth ached, her gums throbbing as though she’d been chewing gum all day and now missed the feeling of it in her mouth. Her lips curled with the sensation as her canine teeth elongated. She ran her tongue across them, feeling the lethal points. When she realized what had happened, she covered her mouth with her hands.
She felt exposed, like she’d been caught doing something scandalous on camera.
But Padraic reached out, tugging her hands from her mouth. She felt her brows wrinkle as he traced her lips with his thumb, his touch lingering on her lip ring. Then, he tested her fangs, pressing the end of his thumb against them gently, not hard enough to break the skin. His pulse pounded in her ears, and she zoomed in on the pulse beating in his neck.
“Beautiful,” he said. “I didn’t think you could possibly be more attractive, but clearly, I was wrong.”
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He brought his hand to trace the side of his face, the scent of his blood like fire in her throat. Before she realized she had even moved, she grabbed his hand, holding his wrist to her nose, and drank in the alluring smell of him.
“Go ahead,” Padraic whispered. “If you’re thirsty…”
Jules hesitated. She looked back at Ivy and Ardan, both standing awkwardly at the intimate scene in front of them.
“Sorry,” Jules whispered.
“Seriously, go ahead,” Ivy said. “If you try to take too much, we’ll be here to stop you.”
It felt like a weird violation, but at the same time, Ivy was right. She had no idea how she would react. She knew next to nothing about Laltogs, and her only knowledge of vampires were from cheesy teen novels and horror movies.
“Are you sure?” Jules asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Do your worst, Juliet,” Padraic whispered. His lascivious smile made his words a challenge.
Smiling back at him, she took his wrist, and as gently as she could, bit into the sensitive flesh. He hissed at first, but then as the taste hit her tongue, she drank from him in greedy pulls, gulping it down like some crack head in need of a fix. Embarrassed, she slowed down, trying to moderate, vowing not to lose herself. If that happened, she could lose Padraic, too, and she’d never forgive herself for that. When the blood sloshed in her belly, she slowed, feeling her fangs retract back into her throbbing gums. The burning in her throat died away. She looked down at Padraic’s wrist, nerves twisting within her when she saw the two puncture wounds. She met his eyes.
“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m…more than fine, actually.”
“What do you mean?” Jules asked.
Then, she recalled what Ivy had said about her visions when Fhaescratch had fed from her.
“Oh!” she said, and exchanged a knowing look with Ivy. Then, they burst into a fit of giggles.
“What?” Ardan asked. “What’s so funny?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Ivy said. “Come on, my dark prince. We have some catching up to do.”
When they were alone, Padraic climbed in bed beside her, pulling her close to him.
“I thought I’d lost you for good,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the sensitive flesh behind her ears.
She turned in his arms, facing him. “You know me better than that. I’m not so easy to get rid of.”
He smiled, bringing his lips to hers. Jules didn’t know how long they held each other, kissing and whispering, just enjoying the moments together. After what had just happened, Jules didn’t plan on wasting a single day, even though now, she would live forever. Well, unless someone figured out a way to kill Laltogs.
“Your choice was taken from you,” Padraic whispered.
He had grown strangely quiet and serious, so Jules knew something had been bothering him.
“Now, you can never go home. You can never live a normal life in the human realm.”
Jules smiled sadly. The same thought had briefly crossed her own mind, but she had pushed it aside. Her entire life had changed the moment she went searching for Ivy so many months ago, and she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything. She loved her parents, as messed up and dysfunctional as they were. And she would miss her sisters. But they all had full lives that revolved around their careers. Somehow, she would figure out a way to tell them goodbye. She would figure out a way to take their sadness so that they could move on as though she had never existed.
“It was always going to be you,” Jules said to him. “I was scared for a while. I was nervous you would grow bored with me. But even in my uncertainty, there was
never any other choice for me. I love you, Padraic. And I don’t regret a single moment.”
Smiling, Padraic leaned down, bringing his lips to hers. She couldn’t be sure who was to blame, but before long, the kiss deepened, and there was no more worry. No more talking about the what-ifs or the could have beens.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Teagan stood on the edge of the Seelie Court lands. The orange sky burned like fire above her Darkling Army, comprised of more creatures than Teagan could have fathomed. Row after row of tents stood like patchwork in the lush grass beyond. Campfires were burning, and the dark creatures assembled with their clans. The Laltogs drained the blood of squirrels and raccoons, as well as a few stags. The Brags had fed on the poor animals’ fears before the Laltogs had killed them. Trolls roasted the bodies of small game and filled their glasses with water from the spring that bubbled beside camp. Hellhounds rested by the campfires while Red Caps drank the blood drained from the animals the Trolls feasted upon.
Teagan smiled.
They would win this war.
They would destroy Seelie, and now that Slaine carried the heir, her sister would sit on that throne as soon as Endellion was unseated. But that was a pleasure she had promised to leave for King Fhaescratch.
“Have you completed the cloaking spell?” Teagan asked.
Slaine tossed a pile of furs on the ground and rested her weary legs, rubbing her pregnant belly.
“I did,” she said, gesturing toward an ancient tree, its purple leaves swaying in the breeze. Chained to the thick trunk, the Magi she had captured held his knees to his chest, his dark cloak hiding his face. Fhaescratch himself stood guard, ensuring they would have access to strong magic throughout the war to come. The Magi had cloaked their camp, which was now undetectable to any Fae in either realm. Teagan couldn’t suppress her laughter. Hiding in plain sight had been Slaine’s brilliant idea. She had feared she might come to regret pressing her sister’s loyalty, but so far, it was paying off.
“Did the poor wretch tell you what you needed to know?” Teagan asked.
“Of course,” Slaine said. “I make my move within the hour.”
“Have you seen Barrett?”
“No.”
Slaine’s answer was clipped, and Teagan could tell she was trying to hide the regret in her voice, but she didn’t quite manage it.
“Your heart will heal in time, sister. Once you and I rule all of Faerie, you can have him back if that’s what you wish.”
But Slaine shook her head. “The best of him grows inside me. I wanted him willingly or not at all. That will never happen now, so I’ve decided to cut my losses and focus my vengeance where it belongs. I’ve killed the human girl just as you’ve asked. Now, all I ask in return is that you allow me to punish Ivy. For Mother. For both of us.”
“In your condition?” Teagan asked. Slaine was not fragile by any means, but endangering the Seelie heir would be too big a risk.
“I have learned her whereabouts. Just as you suspected, she’s hiding like a coward in Unseelie. I can use the secret portal to access the palace. I’ll be in and out before anyone realizes I’m inside.”
Teagan considered the offer for a moment. “Are you certain this is the best course of action?”
“I need her gone,” Slaine said. “I need Ivy to suffer as we both have suffered.”
“And this war will be much easier to win if she is dead,” Teagan decided. “Go, but do not place yourself in danger. If you detect a problem, return without hesitation. Understood?”
“Absolutely,” Slaine said. “Ivy’s first. Then, somehow, I’ll deal with her mother.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“We have movement.”
Magi Josiah stepped through the Seelie Portal from Winter, where Lochlan had been sending out spies. Bear dropped the maps he was studying onto his desk and greeted the cloaked figure. Lyric had wisely linked the minds of all the Magi through a ritual often performed in times of war. If the Magi were stolen, the enemy would try to use the Seelie Realm’s greatest allies against them. Lyric had ensured that would not happen.
“Who?” Endellion demanded.
Bear ignored his mother. “Tell us everything,” he said.
“Alena’s dark daughters are at Seelie’s edge, commanding dark armies of evil and dread. In opposite paths the sisters have parted to leave Winter forlorn, all its Fae broken-hearted. The eldest shall strike in Unseelie’s dark realm, unless Seelie Prince her dark plot overwhelm.”
“No,” Endellion said.
“Quiet,” Bear snapped.
Already dressed in his leathers, he grabbed his bow from the wall and filled his quiver with arrows. Slaine was headed for the Unseelie Realm to finish what she started with Jules. She’d given Teagan her revenge for the insult Padraic had dealt to her. Now she would come for Ivy—her vengeance for Alena’s death. But if Bear could get there in time, he could intercept Slaine and lock her away before she could do harm to their child. Before she could harm Ivy.
“Just let her go, Barrett,” Endellion argued. “Ivy and Ardan can take care of themselves. And with the death of Juliet McKinnon, Padraic is probably filled with enough rage to ignite the entire realm.”
Magi Josiah stepped forward, as if to speak, but Bear shook his head. He hadn’t told Endellion about the Laltog blood. He hadn’t told her that Jules was alive and had transformed into one of the creatures she had banished from her realm. He figured the less his mother knew about that, the better. Still, he wheeled around, glaring at Endellion.
“Have you forgotten that Slaine carries my child? The heir of Seelie? Or is it really that easy for you to forsake your own blood if it saves your throne?”
“And how will you protect the heir?”
“If I can get to her before Ardan gets a hold of her, I can take her into custody and lock her away until the babe is born. After that, you can do with her as you will.”
Endellion opened her mouth as if to protest but seemed to think better of it.
“You sold your soul to Alena and allowed her to control you in exchange for keeping your little piece of power,” Bear said. “Everything that followed has been a consequence of your dark bargain. Now, everyone else will have to clean up the mess. So forgive me, Mother, for not heeding your word.”
“But what will become of Seelie if Slaine kills you?” Endellion asked, her voice breaking.
“If I die, then so be it. But I will die knowing I tried to right a wrong.”
Without another word, Bear stepped through the portal. If he didn’t find Slaine, he stood to lose his child and Ivy—the only two things in his life that he loved.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ardan propped his head on his elbow, watching Ivy sleep.
Her lips were swollen with his kisses, her smile contented as she dreamed.
Padraic had been wrong. He said Ardan’s strength and goodness had been inside him all along, but it wasn’t true. Not really. He had abandoned his goodness long ago when his mother died. When Odhran had told him he was to marry the Changeling Princess of Winter, he had felt bound and resentful. But the moment he saw her, he knew that Ivy Hawthorne would either be his destruction or his redemption. Naturally, he had assumed the former.
He had never intended to love her, but he’d been unable to stop the powerful force of his own beating heart. Now, his happiness was in her, his will and his courage and his life depended on the beating of her heart.
He would never forget the wild look of her as she had crouched in front of Jules’ body. She looked starved and depraved, like some sort of wailing banshee. But all he could think when he saw her, even with Jules lying dead on the floor, was that she was alive. With that hope, he could go on living, too.
“I can feel the stress of your thoughts,” Ivy said.
Her eyes were still closed, but she smiled up at him sleepily.
“Apologies, my love. I know you are tired. But when you are lying there so beautiful, wearing a
secret smile I’d like to think I put on your lips, I can’t help but think all variety of thoughts.”
Ivy laughed, reaching up and pulling him down beside her. Ardan wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“What were you thinking about?” she asked.
“About how much I love you,” he said. “About how I would be lost without you. How life would be a bleak nothing if you weren’t lying here in our bed.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
“Nothing wrong with a bit of theatrics.”
Ivy snuggled closer. “What time is it?”
“Nearly three. I find I’m having trouble sleeping tonight. I was actually thinking about the first time I saw you at your binding ceremony. I was so angry with my father for forcing me into a marriage I didn’t want.”
“How flattering,” Ivy said, looking up at him. “How do you think I felt? I had just found out I wasn’t even human and then I had the whole betrothal bomb dropped on me.”
“But then, I saw you,” Ardan said. “You were so beautiful and bewildered as you stood beside your mother. I thought for certain when Alena showed up dragging Violet behind her that you’d shatter into a thousand shards. But then, you raised your chin, marched down the stairs, and knelt down in the blood to heal her wound. I thought I’d never seen someone so fearless in my life.”
When Ardan looked down, she was staring up at him, her eyes rimmed with moisture.
“What is it, love?” he asked.
Then, she smiled. “I love you, Ardan,” she whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”
Warmth swam through him. He’d told her enough times, but he had never heard her say the words, even though he had suspected a time or two she might be ready to say them. He traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertips, tracing her flawless skin until he reached her neck. Then, he brought his lips to hers, kissing her with every ounce of love he had for her. Though Ivy’s lips and hands urged him on, he pulled back from her.
