by Melissa Marr
“I can do this; I can tell him,” she whispered. Then she raised her voice and said, “Go to the other side of the room. Please?”
She waited for a couple moments, listening to him walking away. In the still of the room, she could hear his heartbeat racing. Like prey. It didn’t make her self-control any easier.
Slowly, she opened the door and took two steps forward.
He stood on the opposite side of the tiny room. His dangerous emotions were walled up again. “Did I injure you?”
Without meaning to, Ani let out a laugh. “No.”
His face didn’t betray anything. “I would never force—”
“I know that.” She sat on the floor with her back to the edge of the door frame. “It’s not you… I…”
Devlin stayed standing. “You don’t need to explain.”
Neither his voice nor his posture revealed any of the emotions she’d felt so clearly when she sat with the door between them, but she knew what he’d felt. He knew that she was aware of every emotion that had flooded him. Part of her wanted to pretend ignorance, but she wasn’t selfish enough to let him believe he was at fault.
To most people, yes, but not you, Devlin.
She sighed and started the conversation she didn’t want to have. “How did you feel after I kissed you at the Crow’s Nest?”
“It had been a long—”
“Exhausted?” She paused long enough to see him nod, and then continued, “Dizzy? Weak?”
“I am the High Queen’s Bloody Hands. I am not weak.” He scowled at her. “I’d had much to do of late, but—”
She interrupted again. “I drain the energy from faeries… and mortals.”
Devlin watched her, but he’d locked down his emotions. She hated the fact that he’d done so, almost as much as she hated that he hadn’t done so when they were kissing.
She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her folded legs. “If it’s emotion, but no touch, I do okay. If it’s touch, but no emotion, I do fine. Sometimes, though, when it’s both… I was drinking your energy that night, Devlin.”
For a long moment, he didn’t respond, and then he asked, “And tonight?”
Ani took a deep breath. “I could feel your emotions, so I stopped.”
“I see.” Devlin walked toward her. When he was directly in front of her, he knelt down on the carpet.
She lifted her gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I do need to be well to keep you safe.” His voice was emotionless.
“That’s not why.” She closed her eyes. Having him so close was cruel.
His hand stroked her hair. “I am sorry I caused you upset.”
She opened her eyes to look at him. “I could kill you.”
“You could’ve just now,” Devlin whispered. “I don’t think I would’ve stopped you.”
She shivered. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she repeated. “I want… you.”
His emotions remained locked down as he ran his hand down her arm. “I talked to Irial.”
Few sentences could’ve startled her as much as that did. She stared at Devlin. “You…”
“He told me to be careful, but not why,” Devlin whispered. “I told him I wanted to take you away, to make you safe, and… he said only if it was your choice.”
“Oh.”
He leaned in and kissed her lightly, lips closed. “How deadly are you?”
“I could drain every faery I touch if they don’t know how to keep their emotions contained. I could funnel that energy to my court; I could feed them all.” Ani couldn’t hide her shudder. The idea of drinking down lives, of feeling bodies grow cold in her arms, was horrific. “Banan—she probably wants my blood for that reason. I’m not sure how, but if she could use it, she could feed on mortals, halflings, faeries…. Killing would be a way to feed the court. She likes killing.”
Devlin held her gaze. “I won’t let her use you.”
“Iri would use me too. He told me to kill you if I needed to.”
“And would you kill me, Ani?” Devlin held out his hand.
Ani slipped her hand into his, and he stood and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “I don’t want to.”
“But if your kings ordered it?” he prompted.
“Disobeying my king… or Iri would mean leaving my court.” She stepped out of his reach. “But I’d rather not kill you.”
“And I you.” He kissed her forehead, and then he walked over to the bed.
She stood motionless.
“Come. I will keep my emotions hidden away so I can be next to you.” He folded the covers back.
Tears threatened. “Are you sure?”
“Never more in my life.” He held out a hand again. “Rest now, Ani. Even potential murderesses need their sleep.”
CHAPTER 24
Rae walked through the palace, peering out windows at Faerie. It was like an abandoned city, but with the unpleasant addition of having bits of the world fading away. A mountain had vanished, and the sea seemed to be draining. The glimmer of soft violet water was faint. In the streets, faeries, mortals, and half-fey slept. Not everyone was asleep, and most of the world was still in place, but there was no doubt that Faerie was destabilizing.
As she walked openly through palace corridors, she kept reaching out for the thread that unmistakably led her to Devlin. Finally, somewhere in the mortal world, she felt him sleeping.
Forgive me, Devlin, for what I come to tell you.
There was no doubt that it was Rae’s fault that Sorcha had abandoned her court; it was her fault that Devlin’s home was in danger—and she had to tell him.
As she entered his dream, she saw him leaning against a wall, staring at a closed door on a small stone building. The top was covered with jagged metal bars. The whole building was wrapped in thorns. It was an edifice designed to be foreboding, inviting no approach.
Rae wondered if the building existed in the real world: Devlin was resistant to flights of whimsy or indulgence. It was a High Court trait he clung to willfully, as if pretending to be like them would make it so. It had been more than a century since Rae had walked in the mortal realm anywhere other than Ani’s dreams, but she had a difficult time imagining that such a fairy-tale construct was representative of modern architecture.
What hides in that building?
Rae walked over to him. “Devlin?”
He turned and frowned at her. “What are you doing, Rae? Do you know how dangerous it is to come here? You must go—”
“You must come back,” she interrupted. “Sorcha has gone into a dream, and she doesn’t want to awaken. She’s… unwell, only interested in watching her son within the dreamscape. I can’t change her dream enough to force her to wake. The first time I went into her dream, she was able to resist me, and—”
“Her son?” Devlin’s brow furrowed; his lips pursed. “Seth.”
“You need to bring him back,” Rae repeated. “Faerie is fading. Things are vanishing. Faeries are asleep and won’t wake.”
Devlin glanced at the stone building. “She knows what you do… and now Faerie is unraveling while she stays in a dream watching her son. She would destroy Faerie mourning his absence. Such a thing is not logical.”
The lack of emotion in Devlin’s voice made Rae cringe.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “She made it so only her son or her brother could wake her. I don’t know him… and she’s so obsessed with watching him. I’m not sure she’ll wake without him.”
Devlin scowled. “Seth shall be made to come to Faerie.”
“Do you know where he is?” Rae asked.
“I do. He’s the one she sends me to see.” Devlin’s emotions, usually so clear to her when they were together in a dream or in his body, were locked away as he spoke.
“Dev?”
“He’ll be there whether or not he wants to.” Devlin glanced again at the stone building. “Sorcha never told me.”
Rae reached out
and touched his arm.
He looked at her.
“Told you what?” Rae asked.
“Her secrets.” Devlin looked at Rae’s hand and then at the building. “But I never told her mine either.”
Rae reached out with her other hand and touched his cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was Sorcha when I met her. I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “She was already unwell. That’s why she ordered me to stay in the mortal world. I should have—I don’t know. I don’t know what I should’ve done. How did I not know she had a son?”
He sounded lost as he spoke, and Rae felt useless to help. She couldn’t lie and promise that all would be well, not to him.
“I would fix it all if I could,” she murmured. Her hand was still on his face, and he was not pushing her away as he had done before when she offered him her affection. “I can’t fix this. She instructed that only you or Seth could awaken her. I tried to talk to her. I went to her and… she doesn’t care. She’s the Queen of Order, and she doesn’t seem to care at all.”
“Is it wrong to want something other than the life one has?” Devlin leaned his head against hers. “That’s what Sorcha has done, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Rae kept her voice gentle. “But she’s not thinking of the lives dependent on her.”
Devlin laughed mirthlessly. “I won’t fail Faerie. I never have.”
“I know.” Rae smiled at him. “You are different from her. Stronger.”
“No, I’m not. I understand what Sorcha is doing. Love makes you foolish. It makes you throw every bit of logic away, do stupid things, dangerous things.” His eyes flashed shimmers of color as he spoke. “It’s her. Ani. She’s the new life I want. For her, I might throw the world into chaos.”
“No.” Rae put her hands on his shoulders before he could retreat. “Even now, you would think of the good of Faerie. Unlike Sorcha, you’ve spent eternity balancing passion and your practicality. If you were a king, you’d still protect your court. She would too, if she wasn’t unwell.”
Devlin caught Rae’s gaze. He stared at her silently for several moments before saying, “You came to me in a dream in the mortal world… because of Ani.”
Rae stepped backward, putting distance between them.
“You keep secrets from me, Rae,” he said.
She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up a hand. “I know you do, and I’m not asking what they are. What I need to know is whether Ani is safer with me in Faerie or here without me.”
“I can’t tell you that,” Rae whispered. “She is important. Forgive me for what I cannot say, but… treasure her. She is dangerous, lethal, but she’s also essential. I would give my life… what there is of it… to keep her at your side. Treat her with the care I know you harbor for me.”
Devlin stared at her as if he would read secrets from her skin. Then he nodded. “What happens when you return to Faerie?”
“It depends on if there’s anything to return to,” Rae admitted. “It’s disappearing too quickly to predict. I’m not sure how long Faerie will last if she doesn’t wake.”
“I’ll retrieve her… son.” Devlin’s tone was no longer unreadable: he was angry now. “Go back and try to talk to her. Tell her that Seth is on his way home, that her brother brings the child she wants. Tell her that if Faerie isn’t as it should be, her son might not be able to reach her.”
Rae couldn’t respond to whatever anger drove Devlin. She knew that the High Queen had done plenty to push Devlin away from her, but this was new; the anger was unfamiliar. Things were shifting, and while Rae didn’t understand them all, she nursed hope that they were leading to the future she’d glimpsed so briefly.
Devlin walked over to the stone building. One wall became glass. Inside Ani slept. She was holding a black- handled knife in her closed fist. He put a hand up as if to touch the barrier. “She’s… ferocious and strong. My sisters want her death, but I need her to live.”
“You always have,” Rae murmured.
He looked over his shoulder at Rae. “I hope you are there when I return to Faerie.”
Rae nodded, and then she reached out and took Devlin’s hand.
He pulled her into an embrace and held her tightly. “I wish I could keep you here or bring Ani there. I wish we were all hidden away in your cave, that you were safe with Sorcha, that Ani was safe from Bananach.”
“Be careful?” she asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “I think I’d like to be truly not-careful. Not for just a few hidden moments, but often. I was made of order and discord. Perhaps it’s time I let myself know both sides.”
Rae stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I love both sides, Devlin. I always have.”
He said nothing for a moment, just held her carefully. Then he said, “I will bring Seth to Faerie, wake the queen, but after that… I am not sure.”
Rae wanted to tell him that there was another path, but she could not speak that. She could only hope that he would see it. “If there is a way, I would always be where you are.”
Devlin’s voice was muffled as he held her close. “I’ll be home soon.”
After he turned away, Rae created a mist in his dream to hide her presence and whispered, “Forgive me, Devlin.”
And then she reached for the thread of Ani’s dream and held the two faeries’ dreaming minds in her hands. She stitched the two sleeping faeries’ dreams together. If Rae wasn’t dead, she could unstitch them later, but if Faerie was gone and her with it, Devlin would need some other way to give in to his emotions. Rae could give him—and Ani—a plane where Ani’s lethality wouldn’t hurt Devlin and his High Court restraint could be loosened.
CHAPTER 25
Ani dreamed she was on a beach. Behind her were sandstone cliffs with thick forest atop them. The tide was coming in, and the water lapped against her feet. The bottoms of her jeans were wet and collecting sand.
Devlin stood in front of her. He looked around as if expecting to see someone else too. “What if this isn’t just a dream, Ani?”
“It is,” she insisted.
“Do you dream of me, then?” He smiled, freer than he was in the waking world.
“Maybe.” She blushed, but she didn’t let her attention waver. Her gaze took in the details, the foreboding posture and inhuman eyes, the more-than-faery strength and not– High Court violence that were just barely hidden. “You’re easy to look at.”
“As are you.” He reached out and caressed her face. With a serious expression, he traced the edge of her jaw with his thumb. “You’re beautiful, Ani. In all of eternity, there’s never been another faery who could make me want to forget everything and everyone else.”
“Because you like the way I look?” She rolled her eyes. “Apparently, my dream mind is shallow.”
“No, not the exterior. You… the tempers and follies and passion… even the way you care for that infuriating steed.” Devlin gazed at her like she was precious. “Even knowing you could be fatal, I would’ve said yes.”
Her chest hurt like she had held her breath too long as she asked, “To?”
“Whatever you wanted.” He didn’t reach out and pull her into his embrace. Instead, he took one step forward, leaned down, and kissed her.
When his mouth opened against hers, she didn’t drink down his energy. It was just a kiss. Admittedly, it was a forget-your-name kiss, but it was not deadly.
Nor was it lust.
Nor was it anonymous.
Kissing Devlin was unlike every other touch she’d known.
She leaned back and stared at him. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. Not here.” Devlin was so close that she felt the words on her lips. “We’re safe here.”
The wolves that appeared so often in her dreams were stretched on the sand, peering out from caves in the base of the cliffs, waiting in the trees far above the beach. They all watched with unusual contentment.
“Stay with
me,” Devlin whispered, drawing her gaze back to him. “Just a little longer. We can deal with the rest when we wake.”
She wasn’t sure though if his words were a question or a statement. She ran her hands over his bare chest. Like most faeries in her court, his body was one of faint scars and tight muscles. Faeries healed most everything. To have that many scars meant that he saw plenty of violence. “In the room, I tried not to do this.”
He didn’t move away. “Do what?”
“Feel your scars. I’m sorry I don’t have many to share.” She felt a growl in the back of her throat. “Gabriel won’t let me fight.”
“I like the way you fight.”
She grinned. “Mmmm. What else would the dream version say to me? Would you tell me what you really think of me?”
“I would.”
“Would I want to know?”
“I’m not sure.” He kissed her again, briefly this time, and added, “Why don’t you ask me when you are awake, Ani?”
At his tone, Ani wondered if this was a dream. She stepped back and looked at him. He stood topless and barefoot on the beach with her. The sea beyond them was motionless, but for the splashes of curious beasts that occasionally broke the surface. It felt like neither dream nor not-dream.
“Am I dreaming?” she whispered.
“We both are.”
“If this is a dream, why can’t I make clothes vanish?” Ani spoke to herself as much as to him. She reached out to his jeans. “Buttons. Zippers. It’s silly to have these in a dream.”
He didn’t resist. “It is. They’re a nuisance in the waking world too.”
Ani gasped as he slid his hand under the edge of her shirt. “I’m dreaming.”
“Yes, but this”—his fingers curled around her side— “is”—he tugged her closer—“real too.”
Then he kissed her, emotions raw and available. When he pulled back, he told her, “You were the one who stopped, Ani. Not me.”
“For your own good,” she reminded.
“You underestimate me.” He wasn’t walking away, nor was he weakened by the energy she was drowning in. “Don’t walk away this time.”
