Roue puts her arm around me, and I tuck into her side as púca magic flows around us, tingling my skin, stinking up the afternoon air.
In seconds, the Xi is covered in a net of vines and roses.
Miss J gestures sharply, a ripping gesture, and the roses meld into the Xi, sinking into that blue skin, becoming invisible. Only, my Fae-sight picks up a ghost image of roses and vines overlaid on the Xi’s aura.
I’ve seen enough teen witch shows to know a binding spell when I see one.
This is a geis, and a powerful one at that.
The Xi shivers once and is still.
Miss Jardin steps back. “The geis is cast. The Xi won’t be able to attack you.”
“Either of us?” I prompt.
“Yes.”
“Anywhere?”
“Well…” Miss J’s glasses flash in the fading glow of the roses. “In either of my demesnes.” Seeing my blank look, she clarifies. “The school or the tenement building.”
Roue snarls, “That’s not what you promised.”
Miss J’s right eye twitches. “It’s not not what I promised, yes?”
“It’s all right.” I get between them again, heading off World War: Dark Fae, and turn to Miss J. “A deal’s a deal. I release you from one condition of your geis.”
The real bummer of this is that I have no idea how many conditions there are. Or which one I’m releasing her from.
I could be freeing her with this one act.
Roue and I both brace, waiting for the maniacal laughter, the triumphant villain speech—anything to herald Miss Jardin’s freedom—but nothing.
Nada. Zilch. Zip. Zero.
All that happens is a glowy red aura shimmers over the púca librarian for a hot second, and the scent of habaneros ramps up so pungent my eyes tear up again. Her Glamoury shivers, then breaks. Weird, but not catastrophic.
Whew! Relief zings through me.
Miss Jardin merely folds her hands on her pencil skirt. “It looks like your friend’s waking up.”
The Xi is indeed stirring, groaning groggily.
“Um…” I admit. I hadn’t thought this far.
Me and Roue are exchanging awkward looks when the doors crash open.
“Miss Jardin, I didn’t see you outsi—” Becca stops cold, then fixes her face in a moue of annoyance, hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
Uh-oh.
There’s no way to hide that Something Weird is Going On. Becca clearly sees the Xi lying on the bench with the three of us gathered around. Becca also sees the wisps of púca magic flying around in the air like some rose petal magical girl anime. Suspicion creeps into her brown eyes.
“Hi, Becca.” I put on my best no, we weren’t doing black magic in the library look. Maybe we can talk our way out of this? Maybe.
The Xi picks that moment to sit up. “What…what is happening?”
Then again, maybe not.
We can probably explain away the rose-petal anime stuff, but a six-foot, blue-skinned troll?
Not so much.
Becca looks from me to Roue to Miss Jardin, then her gaze falls on the Xi. Something comes over Becca’s face, a weird expression I can’t place. “Do I know you?”
Okay, this is strange for two reasons. One: Becca totally doesn’t see the Xi’s dark Faeness. At all. And two: Becca’s looking all goo-goo, starry-eyed at the Xi.
And the Xi is giving her that same look back. “I… I don’t think so.”
You can practically see the cartoon hearts shooting back and forth between these two. My jaw hits the floor. I look at Becca, then the Xi, then Becca.
More cartoon hearts. More goo-goo eyes.
Awww…my little heart just melts.
You know those cheesy movies where the hero and heroine see each other for the first time and fall instantly in love?
This is kind of like that, but with less Hollywood cheese and more Fae gloss.
“It’s a Faerie descant,” Roue sends down the bond. “A kind of mutual connection-slash-attraction between two Fae.” She folds her arms. “Never seen it with a mortal, though.”
“Whatever it is, it’s definitely happening.” And even though the Xi legit tried to infect us with Inimical circuits, the total nerd part of me is kind of rooting for them.
Especially since the Xi can’t exactly attack us now.
“Are you okay?” Becca moves to the Xi’s side. Then she stops to give us all the stink-eye. “You know, bullying is beneath you. Especially you.” She points at Miss Jardin, who puts on her best, who me? expression.
“Welcome to our book club, Miss Buchanan.”
“Book club.” Becca’s mouth twists. “Yeah, right.”
Weirdly, it’s the Xi who comes to our rescue. They stand up, brushing rose petals off black leather. “Shall we meet at the same time next week?” But the way they eye Miss Jardin, it’s clear: the Xi knows they’ve been hit with púca woojy-woo.
I jump in. “Sure thing. Yeah. Looking forward to it. Beowulf, right?”
“C’mon.” Becca takes the Xi’s hand and tugs. “Let’s get you away from these weirdoes.”
The Xi goes, docile as a puppy dog. Roue and I breathe a sigh of relief, touching the Aureate Queen in my pocket.
The fight with the Xi might be over, but the battle against the dark Fae king has just begun.
16
ROUEN
Anything, princess
I would do anything for you.
I would die for you
I would live for you
For you and only you.
-”Only You,” Euphoria
* * *
Overhead, the night is an inky velvet sprinkled through with winking stars as I pull into the alleyway behind Elephant Thai. My Harley roars like a mythological black and violet beast, but it’s me who’s restless.
My dark self’s been fighting to get out.
Ever since I challenged my father, I’ve felt Dark-Rouen so close to the surface, battering at the prison in my mind, straining to break free.
I try to tell myself that it’s natural.
I pushed my power and my body to the limit. I nearly died. Wounded, exhausted, brought to the brink of raw instinct and emotion, where logic flies out the window and everything becomes sheer visceral survival.
That’s the kind of trauma that feeds your dark self, gives it power.
That’s the reason it breaks free and takes control, turning you into a rampaging monster hell-bent on destroying the ones you love.
Not with me, I vow, throwing the kickstand down. I won’t fall to the darkness that consumed my father.
A sudden migraine creeps in, tendrils coiling around my head, but I recognize the pain right away. I see you, Dark-Rouen. Clutching the Adamant Queen around my neck, I slam my mental barriers down, locking her out.
“I’m nothing like him,” I whisper to the dimly lit alley. “I’ve got something he doesn’t.”
Love. Syl. Our soul-bond.
You mean the soul-bond that’s destroying both your worlds? my dark self taunts from behind the bars of her soul-cage.
I ignore Dark-Rouen, instead checking my track phone for the time. 8:35. I shouldn’t have long to wait. Syl’s shift is about to end. To distract from my gloomy thoughts, I inhale the savory scents of takeout Thai.
Mmmm…my favorite.
Tonight’s the night Syl gets to take home all the leftovers from the lunch shift.
Of all the things I like about the mortal world, takeout is top of my list. When you’re a dark Fae baobhan sidhe who normally feeds on blood and power, you have to satiate your beast with something.
Takeout does a fair job of filling the gnawing hunger in my gut.
Speaking of hunger…
Seconds later, Syl comes bursting out the restaurant’s back door, pulling off her stained polo. The tank top underneath rides up, showing a strip of pale freckled skin.
Ohhhhhh… Her beauty hits me like a fist. So much for my über-cool
goth star image. “H-hi,” I get out breathlessly, giving her a hand as she straddles the back of my bike.
I barely notice the smell of the Thai food with the rest of me amped up.
“Hi there.” Her voice is bright, the gentle press of her warm body playing havoc with my attempt to regain my cool. She kisses my cheek, sending warm tingles shooting through me, and my body goes on overdrive.
I want…so much.
And my dark self knows it. Possess her, take her, she whispers, and the pressure in my head surges, spiking me with pain.
A hiss of pain escapes my lips as panic wells up inside me.
My father indulged his inner darkness, and now there’s nothing left of the proud king and good man he was.
I grip my handlebars so hard my knuckles creak.
I’m taking her home and then to my gig at the Nanci. That’s all, I tell my dark self.
She surges up behind the bars of her soul-cage, but I shove all my mental shields toward it, slamming her back. With a snarl and a bright flash of fangs, Dark-Rouen retreats.
For now.
Thankfully, though, with me playing the Nanci Raygun tonight, I’ll be able to let off some steam with my music. Besides, Syl will be in the audience—i.e., not dangerously close to yours truly, like right now.
A bead of sweat runs down my temple, and I wipe it away.
“You okay?” Syl’s sensing all my inner turmoil through our soul-bond. She angles herself to see my face, but that only presses her harder against me. Her scent, warm vanilla musk washes over me, making me dizzy for her.
“I’m fine.” It’s not a total lie because even though Dark-Rouen’s giving me flash-migraines, the rest of our situation’s actually improving.
It’s been five days since Miss Jardin cast her rose-petal púca geis over the Xi. So far, it’s held.
The Xi’s not attacked us.
The troll assassin’s stayed close, even enrolling in classes like a normal high schooler, probably on my father’s command to spy on me and Syl.
Along with our list of Faerie plan to-do’s, I want to help the Xi break free.
Getting a free second to talk to them’s been challenging, though. Becca’s been all over the Xi and vice versa, even though neither will admit the painfully obvious attraction.
Who knew? At least Becca’s distracting the Xi from their mission.
“Ready for tonight?” Syl sets the bag between us, and even that small distance helps calm my dark desires.
Focus up, Roue.
“You know it.” I keep my voice light, though I’m not sure how well I hide my struggle from my girl.
Still, so far, we’ve been killing it with our new Faerie plan—summer school by day, train for Wits and War by night. After dinner and my gig, we’re heading out to the Dabney train station to spar near the tracks.
All that iron will weaken the hell out of me, but it’s good practice.
Never know what curve balls my father’s going to throw at me.
I plan to be ready for them all. If only my dark self wasn’t a complete wild card…
“Hold on.” I spin the bike and gun it out of the alleyway, taking Cary Street all the way to Jackson Ward. The ride’s nice. It’s a beautiful spring evening, Syl’s close, her arms wrapped around my waist.
Only the takeout bag keeps her from being pressed right up against me.
Suddenly, I’m ravenous. And not for Thai food.
Dark-Rouen surges up against the cage in my soul, filling my mind with a variety of so-very-not-helpful images of me and Syl making out, bodies pressed together, hands tangled in hair, roaming across freckled skin…
Mentally, I slam the door on those images. Quit it, you.
I manage to keep my act together for the rest of the ride. Soon enough, we’re back at the apartment, in her room.
“Too slow!” Syl teases me as she grabs some sweats and a tank top from her drawer and darts off to the shower.
Immediately, my brain start imagining all the things adorably hot fair Fae sleeper-princesses do in the shower. I bolt from the room. Must. Distract. Brain.
Great. I’ve gone monosyllabic.
Not to mention, my body’s at risk of overheating, and for a dark Fae, that’s never a good thing. As my dark self laughs at me, I cast around for some distraction. My gaze lands on the takeout bag.
Saved!
Grabbing it, I rush into the kitchen and nearly plow right into Georgina. “Blast it!” We end up in this awkward two-step, each making sure the other doesn’t fall on her butt.
“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling away the second she’s got her footing.
Georgina’s been great, almost like a real mom to me, but it’s that almost I keep getting stuck on. My mother died when I was ten, when the sleeper-princess poisoned the hearthstone. I forgave Georgie for her part in that (she was the sleeper-princess in question).
Doesn’t mean I’m ready to be her daughter. Or anyone’s for that matter.
“Rouen.” She doesn’t bat an eyelash. “You and Syl have dinner duty tonight.”
I hold up the Thai food. “Right here.” I’m feeling pretty smug because Syl and I always have Tuesday night dinner duty, and tonight, we’ve got it all locked down. No muss, no fuss. Even with all our Faerie problems, Georgina still insists that homework gets done, dinner gets made, dishes washed.
The Faerie apocalypse is no excuse.
Georgina eyes the oily brown paper bag. “We’re not eating all that grease without a salad.”
Translation: You’re not totally getting out of dinner duty.
“All right already,” I grumble. I know better than to argue with her when she’s in her Mom-zone. I head to the fridge and snag the salad mix, cucumbers, tomatoes. When I turn, Georgina’s still there.
Watching me.
I raise an eyebrow. Translation: What gives, lady?
Never one to mince words, Georgie gets right to it. “I can’t protect her this time.” It looks like every word physically hurts her. “It’s up to you, Rouen.”
That stops me cold. Syl’s mom’s been a staunch supporter of Team Syl/Rouen. She opened her home to me, shot Agravaine with iron bullets, and last year, when we were trapped in the school by Fiann, Georgina was the one who brought us supplies.
If she’s not able to help, there’s gotta be a reason.
“Why not?”
Georgina looks uncomfortable, like I just asked her to sit down for a mother-daughter chat. “When I gave up my sleeper-princess power, I swore not to get involved in Fae politics.” She heaves a heavy sigh. “I never thought—”
“It’s not politics. All of Faerie is colliding, and if we don’t stop it, one side’s going to devour the other.” I fix her with a pointed look. “You can’t just stay neutral.”
“I have no choice.” Her green eyes meet mine. “It’s a geis.”
Gah! “Is everyone but me and Syl under a geis?” I blow out a breath. This is bad. “Can’t you do anything? What about Glamma’s Grimmoire?”
“I don’t have magic anymore.” She brushes a strand of silver-streaked red behind her ear. “And the Grimm was lost a long time ago when Glamma fought a very powerful foe.”
“Well, that sucks.” If I’m the queen of anything right now, it’s understatement. I busy myself cutting up the veggies. The uncomfortable silence stretches out. I hear Syl finishing up in the shower.
Georgina hears it, too. “Watch over her, Rouen.”
“You know I will.” I meet her gaze steadily. “I’d give my life for hers.”
“It might just come to that.” Georgina’s eyes are hooded. She knows more than she’s telling, but I trust that if she could tell me she would.
Geisa are strict like that.
“I’ll protect her,” I say again.
“See that you do.”
“Shower’s all yours.” Syl’s bright voice interrupts us as she bounces in, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “I’ll take over dinner prep.”
; Of course she didn’t forget it’s our night.
“Thanks, princess.” I kiss her on top of the head and go take my shower. Once I’m clean, I grip the Adamant Queen for strength and crank up the hot water, suffering and sweltering under it, just to give Dark-Rouen extra incentive to stay away.
I’m in charge here, not you.
She snarls but takes the hint.
Fifteen minutes later, me, Syl, and Georgina tuck in at the small table wedged into the kitchen nook. Dinner’s a bit quiet, a bit strained, each of us lost in our thoughts. Syl is weathering all this as well as can be expected. I mean, her absentee father just turned up as king of the fair Fae, her mom’s under a geis to stay out of it, and she’s got the weight of an entire realm on her shoulders.
An entire realm that’s going to go boom on Midsummer.
Unless we’re willing to fight to the death for our crowns.
No pressure.
We finish up dinner, and Georgina clears the table. “I’ll take care of the dishes, girls.” She fixes us with those steady green eyes. “Homework before your gig.”
“Right!” Syl grabs my arm and steers me toward her room.
I grab my violin case on the way.
Now I know for a fact that we have homework, but I also know that we can do it first thing in homeroom. I really, really need to blow off some steam. I’m all amped up from being close to my girl, Dark-Rouen gnashing her fangs behind the bars in my soul.
“Want to head over early?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow as we slip into Syl’s room. As hard-line as Georgina is, she rarely checks up on us.
Once we’re out the window, we’ll be in the clear.
“We shouldn’t, but…” That slow grin crosses Syl’s face. “Just gotta grab my hoodie.”
Hoodie. That one word drops heavy between us.
Syl told me what happened to the old Throwing Muses hoodie I’d lent her. Shredded by the Aureate Throne, and I don’t think it’s because Fair Faerie doesn’t like 90’s alterna-chick rock.
It’s because it was trying to protect its future queen.
Syl goes to her closet. “I’m gonna change my top, too.”
Inimical Page 14
