During our conversation, two men had begun a game of pool. As I gaped at the faerie, I was dimly aware of two balls clinking together. In my mind’s eye I saw them flying across the green felt and falling into opposite pockets. “You’re insane,” I managed at last. “Either that or there’s something you’re not telling me. Which, judging from my experience with your species, is just as likely. Why me? Why marriage?”
The faerie ignored this. He tilted his head in a way that was already becoming familiar. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Panic was expanding in my chest, making it feel tight. Heedless of whether or not the glamour was still in place, or that I still had a shift to finish, I shoved past and ran toward the door. Within seconds the faerie materialized in front of me. I jerked to a halt, breathing hard. The people around us still didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “Tell me what you think you know,” I snarled. I was more frightened than I’d ever been—even more than the night I’d been taken by goblins—and that baffled me.
“What we could do together.”
I sneered. “Such a faerie. You thought the best way to have me was through manipulation and talk of power? You don’t know me at all. Guess you didn’t learn enough from Regina.”
Once again, I darted around him. Though the faerie didn’t interfere this time, he still followed. “Regardless, I need your answer,” he said.
In my haste, the door slammed violently against the bricks. I hurried down the sidewalk, remembering too late that the van keys were in my locker. I also couldn’t leave Bea short-staffed. But I kept going, stopping only when the sidewalk did. My toes peeked over the edge of the curb. Thankfully, there weren’t many people to witness my wild flight; businesses closed early around here.
The sun was nearly gone now. Faint, pinkish light touched upon the shabby storefronts of Granby. I squinted at the horizon, hoping to catch the moment day gave way to night. It always felt calming, somehow. The faerie moved to stand beside me. I spoke without looking at him. “You want my answer? Here it is. Go fuck yourself. I won’t be making any bargains today.”
“Even at your brother’s expense?” he asked, although he sounded unsurprised.
“I’ll find him on my own.”
He gave no reply. A breeze stirred tendrils of my hair and the distant treetops. The movement drew my attention to them, and I thought about how much those woods had taken from me. My freedom, my brother. I’d fought and regained one. Would I sacrifice everything for the other, as well?
One winter evening, when I was seven, Mom had to teach a class and Dad ran into traffic. They asked me to watch Damon for an hour or two, just until he got home. But a friend had invited me to a sleepover. Though I was supposed to be babysitting Damon, I went anyway. He woke up and found himself alone. Terrified, my six-year-old brother left the house to search for me, clad in only his pajamas. One of our neighbors picked him up from the side of the road. The next day, my parents brought him to the hospital, where he was treated for a severe case of pneumonia. As he lay in that bed, I never left his side. That was when my mother said the words I would live by from that moment on.
You need to take care of each other, she had whispered. I felt her finger on my cheek, saw her round face in a slant of moonlight.
During my descent into memory, the faerie had remained silent. I came back to reality, blinking rapidly at the sun, which was a sliver now. There was a lump in my throat. I swallowed it, knowing that the dinner rush had started. Bea would be wondering where I was.
I was about to turn away when the faerie’s voice drifted to me like a spirit. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Fortuna, but finding him on your own is impossible.”
I whirled to face him, brows raised in challenge. “Why? Because he’s in Faerie?”
“Faerie is another human myth. Such a place doesn’t exist.” He looked amused at the thought. I started to brush past him, and the light in his eyes went out. The faerie grasped my shoulder to stop me, his expression sober, and I wrenched away. “I apologize. I wasn’t mocking you.”
“Can I get back to work now?”
“I’m not the sort of creature who takes a female against her wishes,” he said as though I hadn’t spoken. I let out an impatient sigh. “To claim a mate unwillingly will not be pleasant for either of us. So if you change your mind, know that your end of the bargain is not just standing in a ceremony. I would expect you to be a participant in our life together.”
My face warmed. “P-participant?”
“Indeed. However, I won’t expect to share a bed until you’re ready,” he added. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the beginnings of another smile, but not quite.
“And if that never happens?” Thankfully, my voice didn’t betray the heat spreading through me.
Now he did smile, slow and sensual. As if he knew anyway, the arrogant bastard. “I suspect a celibate existence is not for either of us, but if that’s the case, there are other ways to enjoy each other’s company.”
For a third time, I pushed by the faerie. Finally, he let me go. The sun had moved on, leaving darkness and monsters to rule this half of the planet. Streetlights guided the way back to Bea’s. At the door, I paused and looked back. He still stood there, watching, waiting. I raised my voice so he could hear. “I meant what I said. No bargain. Not ever!”
Though the faerie didn’t move, the words came to me clearly. They caressed the tender skin just below my ear. “If a time comes that you should feel differently, all you must do is say my name.”
“That’s going to be hard to do, considering you haven’t told me what it is,” I shouted back. There was a challenge in the words; I knew a faerie’s name was sacred.
Another pause. It was difficult to see him now, but there was the slightest sensation of ghostly fingertips trailing over my skin. Then, a moment later, his reply came. “It’s Collith,” he breathed. A shock went through me, driven by the fact that he’d given it so freely. Before I could speak, the faerie became a swirl of dead leaves, and a breeze carried them away.
Dramatic … but it had the effect he’d probably intended. I couldn’t help the awe I felt at his display of power. This was more than glamour. Who was he? One of the first faeries, maybe? But that would make him thousands of years old. The prospect was too frightening to accept.
Once Collith was gone, I allowed myself another moment or two. Closing my eyes, breathing deeply, digging for any veins of untapped strength. Then I tightened my ponytail and went back inside, where impatient customers and concerned employers were waiting.
Unlike the night before, I was aware of every minute and hour that passed. Ian O’Connell was back, a bit more subdued this time. Even so, his eyes followed me all night—I could feel them between my shoulder blades, on my ass, up and down my legs. Yet every time I turned his way, he was looking elsewhere. He couldn’t possibly suspect I had something to do with his meltdown, but my instincts stood on end. I tried not to hunch my shoulders or show that I was affected by the intensity of his focus.
The dinner shift wore on, and Bea’s got busier. So busy I forgot about Ian, the faerie, the goblins, Oliver, and Damon. There was only hurrying back and forth between the order window and the booths, counting change from my apron, and keeping a smile pasted on my face. It was different from last night, when I’d been sleep deprived and raw. Now there was something comforting about the familiar motions and the monotony of serving. By one a.m., I felt more like myself than I had in days. Like maybe the slavers hadn’t completely broken me.
Since my parents died, I had never been truly happy. After Damon disappeared, this became even more true. But before being taken by those slavers, I’d been able to find moments of something similar. Contentedness, perhaps, or hope. Tonight I felt the stirrings of it again, and my feet didn’t feel so heavy. Screw that self-assured faerie; he wasn’t going to win. So far, I’d survived everything thrown my way. This wouldn’t be any different.
“Good night,” I called to Cyrus, who gave no indication that he’d heard. Bea and Gretchen waved from where they slow-danced in front of the jukebox. Angela deliberately turned her back. Ariel, who’d already shown signs of improvement, called a chipper goodbye.
I exited Bea’s once again, holding keys and mace at the ready. There was no sign of Ian or Collith, though. Granby felt … calm. Normal. The moon had emerged and shone unhindered by clouds. A strong wind sent leaves flying through the air like birds. They made me think of the lovely flocks in Oliver’s world—I’d get to see them soon. With the barest beginnings of a smile, I got into the van and shut the door, locking it to be safe.
My smile died when I saw Collith’s mirror. It glinted in the passenger seat, where I’d left it at the start of my shift. Part of me yearned to get another glimpse of Damon, part of me was terrified to. I clenched my hands into fists. Told myself to turn the keys and go home. Fall asleep in Oliver’s arms again. Choose happiness, Fortuna.
It felt like I was watching someone else’s hand reach for the mirror.
At first, there was nothing to see. Just my own pale, pinched face. But then the glass clouded, as though I’d breathed on it too hard. Now there were movements and vague shapes. My heart hammered as I waited for the image to become clear.
This time, Damon was crying.
He was sitting in the middle of an enormous bed, holding his knees against a pale and bony chest. He was completely naked, from what I could tell. He didn’t sob, or speak, or move. Instead, his tears were silent. The sort of grief that couldn’t be given a voice, or it would become so big, so loud, that it ripped you apart from the inside. He stared straight ahead, as though he were waiting for something.
Underground, I thought dimly. He’s underground.
Tears were running down my own face. I thought about that cage the slavers had put me in, the sense of powerlessness I’d felt. Seeing someone I loved in such pain was far worse.
Except this time, there was something I could do.
Seconds later, the image faded. Even when it was gone, though, I sat there and stared at the glass. A strange, cold calm stole over me. Any thoughts about happiness or choices were long gone. With a shuddering breath, I set the mirror back in the passenger seat, like it was a child.
Suddenly the door to Bea’s opened. A laugh rang out, and I caught sight of Ariel’s bright hair. Cyrus’s equally vibrant head appeared next to her. Then came Angela, followed by Bea and Gretchen, whose arms were wrapped around each other. My makeshift family. Someone played music from their phone as they started down the sidewalk. A lump swelled in my throat. Before any of them could notice me, I turned the key in the ignition, listened to the engine roll over, switched gears, and drove home.
Trees and stars blurred past. I focused on that, on trying to memorize this—my last night of freedom. Already I could feel a cage closing in. Soon enough the van was rolling and bumping up the driveway. I parked and resisted the temptation to sit there; Damon couldn’t wait.
Moving quickly, as if to outrun second thoughts, I got out and shut the door. The sound echoed through the stillness. But inside me, it felt like there was a nest of hornets, swarming and buzzing. For a minute I paced back and forth, trying to think of another way. Even if Savannah did manage to locate Damon with a spell—which she’d already attempted countless times—it wasn’t realistic to think I could go up against his captor alone. My power had its limits.
Finally I stopped and faced the trees; it seemed logical the faerie would come from that direction. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to say it. “Collith.”
“A little louder, please.”
His voice came from behind. I whirled toward him, an instant scowl twisting my face. The faerie leaned against the van, arms crossed. I searched for any trace of smugness in his expression, but it was either well-hidden or he truly took no enjoyment from this. “Just take me to my brother,” I snapped.
“That wasn’t our bargain. Ceremony first, then Damon Sworn.”
The faerie moved closer and held out his hand. I stared down at it, willing myself to reach back. His fingers were so pale, so elegant. Beautiful. But my own face was proof that beauty couldn’t be trusted. As the seconds stretched to minutes, I forced myself to picture Damon. He needed me now. There was no time for hesitation or cowardice. Still, I didn’t take the faerie’s proffered hand.
“What makes you so special?” I blurted. The faerie tilted his head, brow furrowing in confusion. I made a vague gesture that was meant to encompass the world. Crickets continued their tranquil serenade, oblivious to the tension. “Out of all the men who have pawed at me, been kind to me, or interested me. Out of all the men who have been attractive, intelligent, or decent. What makes you the one I should bind myself to forever?”
The faerie lowered his hand and shoved it into his coat pocket. A breeze whistled between us as he considered my question. I liked that. Most people listened, but they didn’t hear. At last he answered, “The first thing you should understand is that I am not a man. Let there be no illusions about that. I don’t have human instincts or desires.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I have killed,” he replied matter-of-factly. “It means that I am constantly torn between civility and ferocity. It means that I do not want you for a wife, but a mate. As to why you should accept me, above all others, consider this. I know exactly what you are … and I think it’s magnificent. Your enemies are my enemies. My power is your power. If nothing else, let that be the reason.”
Apparently the faerie was finished. He tilted his head again and studied me. His words had caused both intrigue and fear. But he was right that it would be a huge advantage having him for an ally. I was also curious what it would be like to be with a man who wasn’t Oliver or whose fears careened through my head like an out-of-control car. Ultimately, though, I knew that I didn’t want this. There was no love between me and this creature, and if I went with him, I was choosing a life utterly different from the one my parents had wanted for me. From the one I had once envisioned for myself.
You need to take care of each other, Mom’s voice whispered. Her face filled my mind, sad and worried. I would’ve done anything to make that look disappear. I still would.
“Fine,” I heard myself say. The word was barely audible, but the faerie heard it anyway; he put his hand out again. This time, before I could reconsider, I took it.
Part of me had expected the faerie’s grip to instantly tighten. Instead, it remained loose and gentle, as though he were still giving me a chance to change my mind. His skin was as freezing as I remembered. There was still no hint of fear, no flavors on my tongue, and I wasn’t sure whether still I found this infuriating. I waited for the faerie to move—lift into the air like a great bird, or use magic to make us both vanish—but he paused again.
“Honesty isn’t in my nature, but before we proceed, you should know what you’re risking,” he said.
“What am I risking?”
“Your life,” he told me bluntly. “It won’t be easy, retrieving your brother. There are limits to how much I can do. If we enter the place where your brother is being held, there’s a possibility you won’t leave.”
I met his gaze. “Do we need anyone else for this ceremony? We should get started.”
My simple response made it clear how much I cared about any potential danger. The faerie turned away, but I still caught the tiny smile on his lips. Once again, I shoved down a sense of unease. My brother’s tear-streaked face loomed before me. We left the van and walked through the yard. I’d let the grass go this summer, and dry, brittle strands tickled my legs. The faerie led me into the trees. In just a few steps, it seemed like we’d gone into another world. This one was made of darkness and moonlight. An owl hooted in the distance. Save for that, everything was silent and still. Even the wind had quieted. Bare branches stretched and tangled overhead, casting intricate shadows on the leaf-covered ground. “Why are we out here? Is there more power in nature, or something?” I asked. My voice felt loud and abrasive.
The faerie faced me. We stood in the smallest of clearings, an audience of stars watching from above. “Yes, but that’s not why we’re here. I just didn’t want to marry you on a driveway,” he said dryly.
He held out his other hand now. Waited. Wanting this to be over with, I took it without hesitation. The faerie continued, his words soft yet brisk. “The ceremony is only effective if you’re sincere, which is why I’ll make my vows in another tongue. You should make yours in the language that feels truest to you.”
Before I could respond, a sound came from the woods. The faerie frowned and twisted slightly, probably using his heightened senses. The moment his back was turned I pulled out my cell phone, hurried to find the video app, and hit the red dot that would start recording. Then I shoved it back into my pocket.
The faerie refocused on me. He didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. When I said nothing, he began his vows. It was so startling that I gave a little jump. This was it? The magical ceremony that would permanently tie us together? I had no idea what he was saying, which seemed strange, considering this was essentially a wedding. The words he used were musical and complex. But there was no mistaking the tenderness and intimacy with which he spoke them. Gradually I pieced together that he was speaking Enochian—the language of angels.
As he spoke, my strongest instinct was to look away. Somehow, though, I managed to keep my eyes on his. For the first time, I noticed flecks of gold in his eyes, vivid in the moonlight. Like pieces of hardened sap trapped within a tree. After another moment, the faerie stopped talking. My turn, then. I licked my lips. Even as a girl, I’d never given thought to what I’d say in this moment. What could I offer that wasn’t a lie?
“I promise to … be faithful,” I said haltingly. “To always tell you the truth. To keep you from harm to the best of my ability.”
The vows felt inadequate. I faltered, searching for something else to add. But I couldn’t promise to be passionate, or loving, or kind. I couldn’t even say that I would stay with him for the rest of our lives. The reality was that I didn’t know this creature; he could reveal violence or cruelty. However unhappy I was now, I refused to be miserable.
My obvious struggle didn’t seem to bother the faerie. Instead, his eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen them. My husband—no, my mate—smiled again. There was nothing amused or secret about this one. He looked younger, like a boy that had just been given a long-awaited gift. It made me wonder if, just maybe, this wouldn’t turn out to be a huge mistake. When I didn’t go on, he murmured, “I’ve chosen well.”
Trying to hide any discomfort, I cleared my throat. Fought the urge to pull free of his touch. “Is that it, then? Now what?”
“We kiss, of course. Shouldn’t you know this part? Haven’t you been living among humans?”
Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. For once, though, I wanted to have the upper hand with this faerie. So I ignored my trepidation and reached up to pull his face to mine. The faerie made a sound of surprise deep in his throat.
He recovered quickly. Within seconds one of his hands cupped the back of my neck, while the other traveled down to the small of my back, pulling me closer, until every part of me was pressed against him. His body was lean and hard, but the faerie was gentler than I expected; he teased and explored the inside of my mouth as though we had all the time in the world. I couldn’t deny the heat that spread through me, and my usual instincts were silent. I didn’t push away or pull free. Instead, I demanded more. A small, niggling voice in my head worried I was being weak, but I ignored this, too.
Then, without warning, the intensity heightened. It had nothing to do with attraction—this was pure, unadulterated magic. The secret parts of me came alive, tingling, and I gasped against the faerie’s mouth. He hadn’t been hard a moment ago, but now he was, poking my hip. It felt like we were feeling what the other was feeling, seeing what the other was seeing. His desire swept through me. The sensation was heady and disorienting. Soon, though, I sensed something else at the back of Collith’s mind. Not fear, I realized. This was revealed from the mating bond. I suspected he hadn’t intended for me to discover it.
Hope.
As the magic lingered, I became blind with need, and suddenly there was a tree at my back. Part of me knew it was my doing, that I’d yanked the faerie toward it so I could use the trunk as leverage. The bark scraped my spine as I hopped up and wrapped my legs around his slim waist. I wanted him inside me, moving in me. My fingers fumbled for a zipper while his fingers made swift work of my shirt buttons.
“No,” he said.
I barely heard him—the fog of lust thickened and clung. Finally the faerie’s zipper cooperated. Just as I reached within, eager to grip the length of him, Collith was gone. My feet hit the ground and cold air rushed in the space between us. I made a pathetic sound and opened my eyes.
The faerie stood in the center of the clearing, his chest heaving. The distance felt vast and deliberate. “W-what’s wrong?” I managed.
His lips were deliciously swollen. I couldn’t help but watch them as he said, “I want you to have a clear mind when we consummate this.”
A few seconds ticked past. Now that we were no longer touching, I was able to fight the magic; it was like nothing I’d ever encountered before. My own abilities felt natural, part of me, a heartbeat or an exhale. This force was undeniably summoned, and it was as inevitable as a thunderstorm. Now I knew what we’d done was more binding than marriage. We were two beings again, but also not. There was a sense of … fullness that hadn’t been there minutes ago.
Thinking about anything besides the faerie helped me regain control. Little by little, I separated from the magic. Once it had completely retreated, leaving an ache in its place, the kiss replayed in my head. A mortified flush spread through my face. Belatedly I realized that my shirt had come undone. I fumbled for the buttons and muttered, “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. Now where is my brother? And what did you say during your vows, by the way?”
“Yes, you’re right. We’d better get started. It’s already dark, and despite my formidable mate, I’d prefer to avoid the other things that come out around this time.” The faerie didn’t acknowledge my question about the vows. Good thing I had the recording on my phone, then.
Seemingly unaware of my scowl, Collith glanced toward the waxing moon. In its pale light, he was even lovelier. But his scar was deeper and darker. What creature had been strong enough to harm him in such a way?
I tried to smother my curiosity. “Where are we going? You still haven’t said.”
“You should probably pack some belongings,” he added as though I hadn’t spoken. “There’s no telling how long we’ll be—”
“Collith. I fulfilled my end of the bargain. It’s your turn. Where the hell are you taking me?”
At the use of his name, the faerie smiled. And at last, he gave me the truth. “To the Unseelie Court, of course.”