by Melissa Marr
“Give me a minute.” Seth shuddered, looking as pained as Devlin had.
As she watched, he became different. Mortal. Suddenly, Ani was crouched on the ground in Faerie with no one strong enough to fight beside her. Rabbit was more mortal than not in his strength, and while he could fight, it wasn’t his greatest skill. Devlin appeared comatose, and Seth was a mortal.
“Well, this is going beautifully so far,” Ani muttered.
“It’s going to get worse if we don’t wake his ass up.” Seth sat down beside Ani. He was still shivering and sweating, but he looked less like he might vomit. “You trust me?”
Do I? He wasn’t Dark Court, but Rabbit trusted him. The Dark King trusted him. He’s not Pack. The Dark Kings’ mortal beloved, Ani—and Tish’s—friend Leslie, trusted him. He might not be ours, but he fought with the Hunt. And he wants to kill Bananach. Devlin trusted him.
“For now,” she said.
“Good enough. We probably only have a few minutes till she comes.” He reached out for her sgian dubh. “Can I take that?”
“Borrow.”
He flicked his tongue at his lip ring. “Fair correction. Borrow.”
She extended the blade, hilt first.
“He needs blood, Ani. That’s the part he didn’t want you to know.”
“Blood?” She’d watched the Ly Ergs absorb blood through their palms, seen her own family blend it into ink and wear art in their skin with it. The Gabriel always carried his king’s—or queen’s—blood in the living oghams on his forearm.
Blood feeds the magick. The words whispered in the air. Blood binds, and blood promises.
“Devlin requires blood to live,” Seth confirmed. “He has always required the blood of both who made him.”
Ani let her gaze roam over their surroundings, assuring that no one attacked without their noticing, verifying where her brother was, but she listened to Seth’s words.
“I see the future, Ani.” Seth stared up at her. “I see things that… are secret.”
Ani froze. Seth’s eyes held unspoken knowledge. He knew things he shouldn’t, things he hadn’t told her.
“Your blood is different.” Seth glanced at Devlin, who was motionless, and then continued, “It’s what they fight over. It’s what Irial tests…. And it’s unusual enough to nourish Devlin.”
“If I… What does it mean if I give him my blood?” She felt as much as saw the world shifting.
“You’d be bound to him,” Seth said. “It’s… your choice, but if you do this, he’s bound to you, not them.”
Behind him, the world was changing. A dead landscape was bursting into spring all around them. Trees were blossoming in a riot of scents. The grass under them was growing, brightening into a vibrant green. It was a world waking from dormancy.
Faerie will survive now that Seth has returned to Sorcha.
Seth didn’t look at any of that, though. “It’s the oldest magick, and the future will shift if you do this.”
“For the better?” she asked.
“I see threads, not answers.” Seth tugged his lip ring into his mouth. “I’m new to this world, Ani. Still guessing and hoping.”
She heard the things he wasn’t saying, the words he didn’t offer to her. “You think it’ll be for the better, though.”
“For the people I care about? Yes,” he admitted.
She glanced at her brother, who stood silently gazing on the peculiar landscape around them. “That includes Devlin? And Rabbit?”
“Yes. And others you don’t care for.” Seth gave her a very serious look. “And not better for Bananach.”
“Okay.” Ani took the sgian dubh and slashed open her forearm. She knelt on the soil beside Devlin and clasped his hand in hers, so that their arms were resting bloody sides together.
Seth told her the words and she repeated, “Blood to blood, I am yours. Bone to bone. Breath to breath. My hungers yours to feed, and yours mine to feed.”
The world shifted to shades of gray all around her as her blood flowed into Devlin’s wounded arm. Her wolves, the feral things she’d dreamed so often, lay alongside them in the grass. Their eyes were no longer green but red. No longer of the mortal world. The part of the Hunt that she carried was different here. Ours.
From the earth beside them, a hazel tree burst forth. It stretched to the sky, shading them with twisted boughs from which flowers hung. As she watched, a copse of smaller hazel trees surrounded them.
“And I am yours,” Devlin said.
She looked at him.
He had opened his eyes and was staring at her with the same eyes as their wolves. “Blood to blood. Bone to bone. Breath to breath. My hungers yours to feed, and yours mine to feed.”
He kissed her, swallowing her energy as she’d taken his, but it did not drain her—or him.
The growling of wolves pulled her attention. The creatures she’d dreamt of weren’t merely dream now: they were alive and snarling at the silver-eyed faery who approached.
Sorcha.
Her dress was that of some long-gone era; everything about her bespoke a more formal time. She was corseted and coiffed, and as she walked, veiled attendants accompanied her. This is the faery I’ve feared? She was utterly unlike the mad raven-faery.
Seth stood, placing himself between them and the High Queen. “Mother.”
For a moment, it felt that the world held its breath. Sorcha extended her hand to Seth.
He quirked a brow at her, before taking her hand and pulling her in for a hug. “I missed you.”
She pursed her lips as if she was debating chastising him. “Seth. That is not how one greets a queen.”
He laughed and kissed her cheek. His voice was low as he murmured, “It’s okay to hug your son.”
The High Queen nodded, but her gaze drifted over him like the most overprotective of parents seeking minute scratches or bruises. “Who injured you? I couldn’t see you the past few hours.”
“I’m fine.”
“It was Bananach, wasn’t it? Or”—she turned her gaze to Devlin—“you? Did you harm him?”
“No.” Seth stayed between them, drawing her gaze back to him. “My brother and I stood together against her.”
Sorcha opened and closed her mouth as she looked from Devlin to Seth and back to Devlin. Holding Devlin’s gaze, she said only, “I have one son.”
Devlin sat up. “I know that, Sister.”
Gingerly he came to his feet; as he did so, he kept Ani’s hand in his.
The High Queen took in the change in her world. Her expression was not one of pleasure as she looked at the copse of trees. “These are not of my will. Why are they not vanishing?”
No one spoke. Ani didn’t know the answer, and if anyone else did, they weren’t speaking.
The High Queen stepped toward Rabbit. “You, half- ling—”
The wolves growled. Rabbit was leaning against one of the trees, clearly under the watch of wolves.
“You are welcome here,” she continued. “You may stay and heal. There is now a cottage for you in the artists’ section. It will have what you require. Be welcome in Faerie.”
Rabbit bowed his head.
“But you”—Sorcha glared at Ani—“are supposed to be dead, yet you appear not to be. Why is that?”
“Sister, my Queen—” Devlin started.
Ani cut him off. “Because Devlin isn’t as much of a bastard as you want him to be?”
The wolves’ growling vibrated under her skin. Their eyes gleamed with the red she’d seen when she lay on the earth beside Devlin. His eyes were the same red, and she suspected her own were as well.
Sorcha stared only at Devlin. “Will you kill her? Set this right.”
“No.” Devlin clutched Ani’s hand tighter, whether to assure her or keep her still she didn’t know. “I would give any life before hers.”
“Any life?” Sorcha echoed. “Would you sacrifice my life for hers?”
“I would rather you were both well,”
he said.
Sorcha opened her mouth as if to speak, but Seth touched her arm. The High Queen looked at him and was silent.
“I would stay here in Faerie with Ani, Sister.” Devlin started to kneel, but Ani refused to let go of his hand; he rose back up and looked at Sorcha.
Sorcha shook her head. “And who will feed you? Do you think to cast me off and still come to my table?”
The look Seth gave Ani was intense enough that she felt like he was trying to will words into her head. What did he say earlier? Ani replayed the things Seth had told her.
“I will,” Ani blurted. “I’ll give him whatever he needs… or find it or whatever.”
The High Queen scowled, but Seth smiled approvingly.
“So mote it be,” Sorcha whispered before turning.
And then she walked away with Seth.
CHAPTER 33
Devlin watched his sister, his queen, leave. There were so many questions he needed to ask, so many answers he required, but before that, he had to make sense of what Ani had done. Not only had she shared her blood with him, she’d also offered to nourish him. She had stood at his side against the High Queen. They were bound in ways he had never fathomed possible.
Perhaps we always were.
The Hound, his partner unto eternity now, held his hand in her own. All around them wolves waited.
“We made those trees.” Ani looked up at him. Her words were a question, a demand for verification. “Together.”
“And wolves,” he added. “They are flesh now.”
“Sort of.” She looked at the wolves and said, “Come.”
In a chaotic blur, the wolves began to leap into her body, vanishing inside her skin one after another. Muzzles and tails, blood and bone, fur and muscles, all and each vanished into the skin of the Hound holding his hand.
“It feels different than in dreams,” was all she said when the last one of them had entered her.
“It looks different too.” Devlin could see red-eyed wolves shifting under her skin.
“Oh,” Ani whispered. She looked down at her arms in awe. “They’re here.”
Rabbit pushed away from the tree and came over to stand in front of his sister. “Look at you, all painted up without my help.”
Ani reached out to him. “They left room for your art too, Rab. When you’re ready…”
“Someday.” Rabbit brushed her hair away from her face and gave her a look of pure adoration.
Then he glanced at Devlin. “Sorcha says I’m welcome… but the shop…” His words faded away. “The shop’s gone too. Our home…”
Devlin gestured for Rabbit to walk. “There are other artists here. Many artists. Halflings and mortals.”
“There’s nothing left for me over there.” Rabbit still sounded weary, but not as much as he had when Devlin first saw him at the studio.
“Stay here,” Ani urged, “at least until we figure out what to do. Please, Rab?”
Rabbit nodded.
Without any further discussion, Devlin took Rabbit to the artists’ cottages.
After they had delivered Rabbit to a pristine cottage filled with various art supplies and tattoo equipment, Devlin led Ani to his own home.
When they reached his quarters within the queen’s palace, he found Rae in his previously unused sitting room. A smile played on his lips at the sight of her. No longer hidden away in a cave, she was dressed for court and awaiting him.
“She’s awake,” he told her.
Rae smiled. “And Faerie is intact once more. Such a simple thing, isn’t it? You bring Sorcha’s son home, and the world wakes.”
“Indeed.” Devlin wished he could embrace her. He couldn’t, but he could tell her what he felt. “You saved Faerie. Without you, I wouldn’t have known—”
“Without me, she wouldn’t have been lost in her dreams,” Rae corrected. “Do not forget how she was able to see Seth in the first place.”
“You can do all sorts of things in dreams, can’t you?” Ani’s voice was soft, but there was a fear in it.
“I didn’t create any illusions, Ani.” Rae stayed as still as any prey. She didn’t straighten her arms or legs. “I simply stitched your dreams together.”
“Why?”
Rae shrugged. “You needed each other.”
And in that instant, Devlin understood something he’d not admitted. “You knew.”
The world stilled for Rae. “Knew what?”
Devlin, the center of her world, crossed the room to her. His voice was soft. “All these years, you knew Ani was meant to be in my life. Did you know that when you asked me not to kill her?”
“Oh, Devlin, don’t ask me too many more questions.” She lifted her hand as if she would touch his shoulder. “I knew things I shouldn’t have… or maybe things I was supposed to. Who can predict what threads are the ones that were meant to be?”
“Threads?” He frowned as he tried to piece together some clarity from the clues she’d given him. “What all did you know?”
“I cannot answer that,” Rae whispered. “I wish I could.”
Ani sat on a high-backed chair with one foot tucked under her. The wolves in her skin shifted restlessly, but Rae couldn’t tell if that was in response to Ani’s worry or Devlin’s discomfort. The wolves were a part of the New Hunt, the one that belonged in Faerie, and they’d respond to both Devlin and Ani.
Will this Hunt protect me as well?
Rae waited as Devlin puzzled out the things he was learning. If Rae had her way, she’d tell him that he and Ani were meant to be in Faerie, that the whole order of Faerie was awaiting his understanding of what he could make real. If she had her way, she’d have told him everything years ago, but the Eolas’ injunctions were binding.
“Please, Devlin,” she said. “Think on what you know, but don’t ask me questions I am forbidden to answer.”
A knock at the door of the outer chamber made them pause.
“Stay here.” Devlin walked away to answer it.
Once he was gone, Ani looked at her. “You love him a lot.”
Rae sighed. “Your bluntness is not always charming, Ani.”
The Hound grinned. “I believe you’ve mentioned that before.”
As Devlin returned, the look on his face was dire. “She’s summoned me to the hall.”
Devlin entered Sorcha’s main hall. The insult of being summoned in front of all and any who cared to watch pricked his temper. He tried to suppress it as he had done for eternity, but he was failing. He’d been advisor, assassin, family to her for eternity, yet she beckoned him into her hall in front of the masses.
The High Queen sat on the throne looking emotionless. Behind her, Seth stood with one hand on the back of the queen’s throne. Like Sorcha, his emotions were hidden. Devlin, for a change, did not endeavor to disguise his feelings: he was furious. Sorcha had come near to unmaking Faerie, but she acted as if she were unfazed by her folly.
Devlin crossed the crowded room to the dais. He stopped in front of her, but he did not bow. For the first time, he did not bend his knee to the High Queen.
No one in the room spoke. But they watch—and she knows. He had not spent eternity simply killing for his queen; he knew how to wield unspoken as well as physical threat.
“How much have you hidden? That is the question I am forced to ponder now, Devlin.” Sorcha sounded calm, but there was an edge that was new. There, in front of the denizens of the High Court, she spoke to him like he was nothing.
He crossed a line then that he’d never crossed: he stepped up and grabbed his sister’s arm. “We will not discuss this here.”
“Cease!” she demanded. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
“You embarrass us both by doing this here,” he whispered.
Seth stepped forward, but in Faerie, he was mortal, and mortal movement was not fast enough. By the time Seth had moved, Sorcha and Devlin were well away from the dais.
Devlin glanced back and said, “The
High Queen is not in physical danger.”
The assurance was primarily for Seth, but the rest of the assembled faeries heard the words as well.
Seth nodded.
Sorcha continued to resist. She shoved ineffectually against Devlin’s chest and hissed, “Release me.”
“Sister, you will come gracefully, or we will discuss everything in front of them.”
The High Queen pursed her lips, but she stopped resisting.
Then he dragged his sister-mother-queen across the room and shoved open the door to her garden.
She stepped in front of him, and for the first time in the millennia they’d stood alone together in her private garden, he saw ire shimmering in her eyes. The silver veins in her skin glittered like moonlight storming beneath the surface.
“How was Seth made faery?”
“I don’t see that—”
“How?”
“You know the answer or you wouldn’t be acting like this. I gave him of my own essence to remake him. I did not expect the consequences or emotion, but I don’t regret it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I wanted a child of my own. I wanted a son, and he needed a m—”
“You had a son, if you weren’t too cruel to admit it….” He pulled his gaze away from her.
“No, I have a brother. You are my brother, made by order and violence. I wanted someone who was just mine.” She grew agitated, not orderly, not in control of her emotions as the High Queen should be. After an eternity of balance with her twin, she was unsettled—because she had made herself so. The High Queen, the Unchanging Queen, had changed.
“It was the right choice,” she insisted. “I needed him. He needed me.”
“Could we sit?” Shakily, Devlin gestured to the space between them.
Sorcha made a table and two chairs appear. He sat and stared at her. After more millennia than either of them likely could recall, Sorcha had changed everything. Devlin wasn’t sure what that would mean for Faerie or the mortal world, but the consequences thus far—Sorcha’s mourning and Faerie’s almost ending—weren’t particularly encouraging.
Carefully, Devlin touched her hand. “What have you done, Sister?”
“Freed myself from her. We’re different from one another now. I have taken a mortal’s taint into myself, given him part of me. Don’t you see? Bananach and I are no longer perfectly opposite.” Sorcha smiled, and the moon glowed brighter overhead. The air tasted purer as her happiness grew. “It was not my intention, but it has… oh, it has given me so much more than I realized I could have. I have a son, a child of my own, emotions I did not understand, and I can see my twin-no-more without feeling unwell. I may even be able to kill—”
