by Jenna Black
“Hunter’s not dead,” Kiera said, and although it was probably wishful thinking, the words felt true. “You said it was my decision to make, and I’m making it. There are more important things in life than being physically safe, or we’d all spend our lives in bubbles.”
The Daoine Sidhe knocked a third time—though perhaps “pounded” was a more accurate description—and Kiera turned wordlessly away from her mom to descend the stairs.
Conan was standing indecisively in the entryway when Kiera arrived, her mother close behind.
“By the High King’s command, open this door at once!” a voice demanded, and Conan looked like he was in physical pain as he looked back and forth between her mom and the door.
“He’s my king, Cathy,” he said in a pleading voice, but Kiera couldn’t help noticing he hadn’t opened the door despite the commands.
“Open it,” Kiera said. “I won’t go with them, but I’ll talk to them.” There was no reason to leave Conan stuck in the middle. Kiera doubted Finvarra would believe any refusal that didn’t come straight from her anyway. Hell, he might even show up himself to hear it in person once she sent his flunkies packing.
Kiera took a deep breath to steady herself, then joined Conan in the doorway as he opened the door.
One of the Daoine Sidhe stood on the doorstep, the other two hanging back a respectful distance. The man on the doorstep was a strikingly handsome specimen, tall and elegant and dressed to kill. When Kiera looked up into his blue eyes, she felt in them the same disconcerting sense of otherworldliness she felt when she looked into Conan’s. She stiffened her spine and raised her chin. The Daoine Sidhe frowned.
“You bear little resemblance to the High King,” he said. “Are you Kiera, daughter of Catherine?” He asked it doubtfully, as if he had to be mistaken.
“I am.”
Still frowning like maybe he didn’t believe it, the Daoine Sidhe bowed from the waist. “I am Liam, and I come bearing a message from the High King.”
A message, not an invitation—or a summons. Kiera shivered and tried to pretend it was only because of the cold. “What’s the message?”
“He has in his custody an Unseelie warrior who calls himself Hunter Teague.”
Kiera gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes suddenly swimming. Liam smiled, but it was a cold smile.
“I see this one is known to you.”
“Yes,” she choked out. “Is he all right?”
“He is unharmed, for now. However, he is a member of the Unseelie Court, and the penalty for trespassing on Seelie lands is death.”
Kiera tried to put all the pieces together, but failed. What had Hunter been doing on Seelie land? It didn’t make any sense.
“Teague claims to have assassinated the Queen of Air and Darkness,” Liam continued, and once more Kiera gasped.
Her knees felt weak and she swayed on her feet, her vision suddenly swimming. She might have fallen if Conan hadn’t taken hold of her shoulders to steady her. She felt as though she’d been struck dumb, her brain filled with fog.
“Have you confirmed his claim?” Conan asked, taking over when Kiera failed to find her voice.
“We have confirmed that the Queen has been assassinated. We have no confirmation that Teague is responsible. He would be dead already if it weren’t for certain . . . other claims.”
Liam looked like he’d eaten something that had gone rotten. Kiera forcibly snapped herself out of her stupor and glared at the Daoine Sidhe. “Hunter is the father of my child,” she said. “And if he’s managed to kill the Queen, then my child no longer has any tie to the Unseelie throne.”
Disapproval fairly dripped from the Daoine Sidhe’s voice. “Be that as it may, Hunter Teague is still of the Unseelie Court, and he has trespassed upon Seelie lands. His life is forfeit.”
Her heart clenched at the thought that Hunter might die when they were so close to having everything they wanted. But surely Liam would not be here delivering this message if Hunter’s fate were already sealed.
“There must be some reason you haven’t killed him yet,” she said. “What is it you want?”
“The High King wishes to speak with you.”
Kiera’s voice died again, but her mother had no such problem.
“Oh, no,” her mother said, grabbing Kiera’s shoulder and pulling her away from the door. She then placed herself firmly between Kiera and the Daoine Sidhe. “You are not taking my daughter to Faerie.” Apparently, she’d forgotten all about her resolve to let that be Kiera’s decision. “If the Queen is dead, it will take the Court some time to regroup.” She turned to Kiera. “With a little time to plan, we can hide you so well she’ll never find you.”
“I’m not just going to run and hide while Hunter’s still in danger.”
“Hunter wouldn’t want to be used as bait to trap you.”
Kiera winced at the low blow. Apparently, laying on a good guilt trip was a requirement of motherhood. “He doesn’t have any say in it. I’m not going to let them kill him. You know me better than that.”
Her mother looked near tears, and when Conan slung an arm around her shoulders, she leaned into him. Kiera slipped past them. Her mom reached out to her, as if she would restrain her, but she halted the motion and let her hand drop back down to her side.
“I have to go,” Kiera said, stepping over the threshold and out into the cold. The icy December wind stung her cheeks, and her breath frosted.
“At least wear a coat,” her mom protested, wriggling out from under Conan’s arm. He smiled fondly at her back as she hurried to the coat closet. Then he turned to Kiera.
“Don’t forget,” he said. “Unless you wish to remain in Faerie forever, eat nothing and drink nothing you are given there.”
The three Daoine Sidhe gasped in horror, as if Conan had just revealed state secrets.
“Disloyal dog!” Liam growled. “You forget your place.”
“You leave him alone,” Kiera said, poking him in the chest. “I already knew better than to accept food or drink.”
Conan shrugged. “It was just a reminder,” he said to her, then gave Liam a dirty look. “I’ve spent twelve long years in the mortal world on Finvarra’s orders. If he thinks my loyalty is in question, then he is not worthy of it.”
The three Daoine Sidhe grumbled amongst themselves as Kiera’s mother returned to the doorway and handed Kiera her coat. Kiera slipped it on and gave her mom’s hand a squeeze.
“I’ll be back, Mom,” she promised. “Try not to worry too much.”
“Might as well tell a fire not to burn,” Conan groused, putting his arms around her mother.
Kiera smiled. “Take care of her for me, Conan.”
He nodded gravely. “Always.”
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Kiera turned to face her escort. “I’m ready,” she said.
Liam put a hand on her arm, and the other two fell into step behind them. Kiera tried to shake the sensation that she was a prisoner and they her guards.
“Let go of my arm, please,” she said.
Liam’s grip neither loosened nor tightened and he did not look at her. “Mortals can only enter Faerie by walking nine times around a Faerie circle on the night of the full moon. You have a Faerie circle here in Philadelphia, at Logan Circle. As tonight is the night of the full moon, and as you are a mortal, the magical resistance of the circle will tend to repel you.” Finally, he looked at her, but she could read nothing in his expression. “As long as I have a hand on you, I will be able to keep you moving forward when the circle urges you to move some other direction.”
“We’re nowhere near Logan Circle yet,” she protested. “So let go.”
She dug in her heels, and Liam frowned at her. Then, he shrugged and let go of her arm. “Very well,” he said, his voice conspicuously bland.
Feeling as though she’d won a minor victory—over what or whom, she had no idea—Kiera fell into step with her Daoine Sidhe escort as they cont
inued on toward Logan Circle.
****
Kiera felt like her legs had turned to rubber. Only, rubber didn’t ache. It took everything she had to put one foot in front of the other, though it seemed her Daoine Sidhe escorts could walk indefinitely without tiring. She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking how much farther they had to go.
Liam hadn’t been lying about the effects of the Faerie circle. As soon as they had turned a corner and Logan Circle had come into view, Kiera had found herself spacing out. When she came back to herself, Liam once more had a hand on her arm and she realized she was facing away from the circle. She blinked in confusion, and he gave her a smug smile.
The experience had unnerved her more than she liked to admit. She’d fallen victim to Hunter’s glamour in the past, but that glamour she’d fought off with at least marginal success. The glamour of the Faerie circle seemed much stronger, more like a primal force than a contained one. She wondered how her mother had overcome the glamour to make her way into Faerie, but that story would have to wait.
Once they’d made the transition into Faerie, Kiera’s mind had become her own once more. But it had already been a lengthy walk from her mother’s house to Logan Circle, and it hadn’t taken long for her legs to start grumbling in protest. Since they’d come through, it felt like they’d walked about five miles. When it came right down to it, Kiera didn’t even know where they were walking to—until they rounded a corner on the gravel path they’d been following and a massive building rose from the trees in the distance. Kiera halted in surprise, for they had not passed a single house or other manmade structure since they’d arrived.
“That is Tara,” Liam told her. “Finvarra’s palace.”
“Oh,” was all she could think to reply.
Tara towered above the trees that surrounded it, a structure of white stone with slim turrets rising from the walls that guarded it. Too delicate-looking to be a fortress, she nevertheless had the sense that its defenses were formidable. The stone was lit by countless torches that flickered slightly in the breeze.
Kiera told herself firmly that after all she had gone through; she mustn’t allow herself to be intimidated by a building. Before the Daoine Sidhe could prompt her, she recovered from her brief spell of awe and continued down the path.
Dawn was just beginning to light the sky when they finally reached the front gates of the palace. Kiera was stumbling with exhaustion, her throat parched. She wished she’d thought to bring some water with her when Conan issued the injunction against eating or drinking while in Faerie.
She was so exhausted that she barely paid attention as her escort led her through the gates and into the halls of Tara. She noted ornate silver filigree sconces at regular intervals along the walls. The floors were covered in rich rugs that shone like silk. Kiera found herself staring at the intricate patterns in that silk. They seemed to waver in the flickering torch light. She swayed slightly. Liam noticed and gave her a superior smile.
“Come,” he said. “You need to rest before your audience.”
Kiera shook her head, trying to clear the exhaustion. “No,” she said. “I want to see my father now.” Later, she would be even more dehydrated, and the urge to accept a drink would be even stronger.
“The High King will see you when he pleases,” Liam said stiffly.
Kiera rubbed her weary eyes. “If he wants to see me at all, he’ll see me now. Otherwise, I’ll just head on back home.”
Liam laughed. “You can barely put one foot in front of another. You will not be going home just yet.”
She straightened her spine and glared up at him. “I’m Finvarra’s daughter, which means I’ve got a well of stubbornness in me that I’ve barely begun to tap. He’ll see me now or not at all.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Liam looked uncertain of himself. A sour expression detracted from his good looks.
“I will relay your request to the King. Now, if you will be so kind as to wait in one of the reception rooms . . .” He made a sweeping gesture toward a doorway a few yards down the hall.
Kiera inclined her head and allowed herself to be deposited in the reception room.
****
Kiera started awake and found herself lying down on a plush velvet couch, her head pillowed on the arm. She lay facing a huge fireplace in which a merry blaze danced. The warmth seeped into her muscles and urged her to sleep once again. Instead, she forced herself to sit up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes even as she yawned.
The sound of a warm chuckle from behind her shocked her firmly awake. Slowly, she turned.
Just inside the room stood the most gorgeous creature she’d ever seen. He was tall and slender, his face all clean lines and sharp, perfect angles. Hair of an almost metallic shade of gold cascaded well past his shoulders. Eyes of crystal blue peered out from behind long golden lashes, and his decadent lips were curved into a smile that would make many a woman’s knees go weak. He was dressed entirely in deep blue velvet, trimmed with gold, and on his brow rested a filigree crown that sparkled with sapphires.
His smile broadened at her silent examination. He held his hands away from his sides and turned in a full circle as if to allow her to admire him in his entirety.
Kiera rose slowly to her feet, her mouth so dry she wasn’t sure she would be able to speak. Finvarra made it momentarily unnecessary to try.
“You must be exhausted, Daughter,” he said, and there was a faintly mocking tone to his voice that set her teeth on edge. “You are, after all, only a mortal. Perhaps you should retract your rash demand to meet with me before you’ve had a chance to rest?”
She found her voice easily, though it came out sounding harsh and husky after his musical speech. “I don’t think so. I’ve been in Faerie long enough. I want to go home as soon as possible.”
Finvarra put on a shocked expression that no one would have mistaken for genuine. “You wish to leave already? Why, you’ve just arrived!”
“Yes, I wish to leave. And I wish to take Hunter with me.”
He gestured for her to sit down, and she did so reluctantly. He sat on a chair facing her, watching her with a calculating look that did nothing to lessen her discomfort.
“Why should you want the Unseelie creature to go free?” Finvarra asked. “I’ve heard tell the beast seduced you for his mother’s evil purposes. Even had he not trespassed on our lands, his life would be forfeit for the crime he has committed against my daughter.”
She snorted in disbelief. “Are you really trying to tell me you feel some kind of paternal sentiment for me? Give me a break!”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles. “Sentiment? I don’t know if I would call it that. But you are blood of my blood, and such has a ceremonial significance if nothing else. To allow a man who violated my daughter to live would reflect poorly on me.”
When she’d first laid eyes on him, Kiera had felt intimidated by Finvarra. She was glad to note that it hadn’t lasted. “I think it would reflect damned poorly on you if you killed the father of your grandchild. I had to grow up without a father, and let me tell you it was no picnic. I don’t want the same for my own child.”
He straightened, and the look he gave her suddenly seemed wise and grave. “Some fathers are best kept away from their children.”
She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Hunter isn’t one of them. He risked everything for me and the child. That’s more than many fathers have done for their children.”
He arched a golden brow. “Was that a reproof, Daughter?”
Kiera told herself to think before she spoke. The last thing she wanted was to goad Finvarra into trying to become part of her life. “No. I just . . . I just want Hunter back.”
“Why? After all he has done, I should have thought you would dance on his grave.”
“I love him,” she answered simply.
“Ah. I see.” He frowned, his lips pushed out in something that was almost a pout. “You truly do favor
your mother in all ways.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you are mortal to your core. I might have thought that being my daughter, you would at least exhibit some fey traits. But you are homely, and have no special stamina, and are subject to such foolishness as love. I see nothing of me in you.”
Kiera was not overly distressed to hear this, but she figured she’d keep that thought to herself when her father held Hunter’s life and her future happiness in his hands.
“You do realize that the fey are not capable of what you mortals call love,” Finvarra continued.
“So my mother has repeatedly told me.” She thought of the sacrifice Hunter had been willing to make, and she couldn’t help doubting that there was any truth to this assertion. And she thought about the look in Conan’s eye when he put his arm around her mother. No, if the fey didn’t feel love, it was because of some cultural restriction—one it was possible to set aside.
Finvarra smiled. “Yes, I can imagine she’s told you any number of the aspects of the fey she finds unappealing.”
“I want Hunter back whether he’s capable of loving me or not. He’s a good man, and he deserves another chance.”
“The Unseelie are incapable of being good. It is not in their natures.”
“Well then Hunter isn’t Unseelie.”
Finvarra fell silent, regarding her with penetrating eyes. Kiera caught his gaze and then became trapped by it. She shivered, despite the blazing fire, for she suddenly sensed the power of the man who had fathered her, sensed the magic that clung to him, sensed the ancient wisdom his shallow, selfish facade hid.
Finally, Finvarra blinked and Kiera was able to look away. His voice when he spoke held a hint of seduction. “And what would you be willing to sacrifice to have your lover restored to you?” he asked.
“What did you have in mind?”
The air shimmered, and then he held out his hand. A single seed lay in his palm. “You are a mortal woman, doomed to die. But you are also blood of my blood. You have but to eat this pomegranate seed, and that part of you which is mortal will be purged away. You—and the child you carry—will be immortal.”
