Darkness pooled under the trees in the park, but as Alun pounded down the path, his mood was darker still. His work shoes weren’t suited to this kind of punishment, passing the jolt of each step, the bite of every embedded rock, through the thin soles to his feet and legs. He was tempted to take them off and hurl them into the underbrush.
Was he doomed to repeat his own history—rejected once again in favor of family ties by a man he loved? His steps faltered, and he stopped under the gnarled branches of an oak tree. Goddess. I love him. No point in denying it: David—fearless, beautiful, honorable David—had danced his awkward way into Alun’s heart.
Alun might be free of his curse at last—thanks again to David—but what good was it if the one thing he wanted most was beyond his reach? The pain of renunciation was bad enough, but what if David died trying to save his aunt?
He’d do it, too. As stubborn as he was, as fiercely as he pursued helping others—and as little as he knew about his achubydd nature—he could burn himself to a hollow shell without making the slightest impact on Cassie’s condition.
Cassie was a druid—an ancient one if Alun was any judge. How much more energy would it take to bring someone with the weight of that much power back from death’s doorstep? Owain had collapsed after healing a simple flesh wound in a deer’s flank. David would have healed that deer too, regardless of the cost, just as Owain would have probably tried to heal his grandfather, or another of his clan, if they were in the same state as Cassie.
David and Owain were more alike than Alun wanted to admit. Just like Owain, David never let Alun escape the consequences of his own foolish choices. Just like Owain, David had chosen family over Alun.
And just like with Owain, Alun had reacted by running away.
Merciful Goddess. What have I done?
He raced back the way he’d come, bursting out of the tree-cover onto the sidewalk, skidding to a halt in front of David’s house. The front door stood open, lamplight spilling down the porch steps to point a pale-golden finger toward where Alun’s car stood at the curb.
His pulse hammered in his ears, louder than his footsteps in the still night. He’d closed the door when he’d left, hadn’t he? Even if he hadn’t, surely Peggy wouldn’t have left it open. Not at night, even in a neighborhood as relatively safe as this one.
He vaulted onto the porch and into the house. “David!” No answer, but he heard a murmur of female voices from the bedroom, and the tightness in his chest eased. He took a shaky breath and froze. What . . .? He sniffed again and caught the whiff of ozone and steel, the smell of fae on the hunt.
He strode down the hallway, his heart in his throat. Something’s wrong. He couldn’t sense David’s presence—that buzz in his blood, a resonance that had been building since their first meeting.
He stopped in Cassie’s bedroom doorway, scanning every corner, but David wasn’t there. Gone. Just like Owain.
Peggy was sitting next to the bed, holding Cassie’s hand. And Cassie—she was awake, her bird-bright eyes brimming with tears.
“Where is he?” Alun rasped.
“They took him,” Peggy said on a sob. “They threatened us, Cassie and me, and he went with them.”
“Who? The Unseelie?”
Peggy shook her head. “No.”
“The Consort,” Cassie said, no hint of power in her thread of a voice. “It was the Queen’s Consort.”
Black and white sparks danced in Alun’s vision. “The bloody bastard. I’ll rip his sword arm off and use it to cut off his own head.”
“You can’t. The Consort laws are sacrosanct—harm him and suffer the same fate, even unto death.”
Bugger the thrice-blasted Consort laws. “I don’t care.” David’s life was worth any sacrifice.
“Something else you should know, Lord Cynwrig.” The fury simmering behind Cassie’s tears surely matched his own. “This is not the first time the Consort has attacked an achubydd with intent to kill. The other times—” She swallowed, her hands clutching the coverlet. “The other times, he was successful.”
The blood drained from Alun’s head, and he reeled against the doorframe. Peggy rushed over and led him to a chair. “Owain. His clan. The Consort was responsible?”
Cassie nodded. “And the more recent murders as well.”
Pain seared his chest, as if it were being split open. “My fault. I should have sent David away the first day. Should never have taken him to Faerie.” He dropped his head in his hands and felt the bones shift under his fingers. A beast—you’re naught but a beast and you deserve to look as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside.
“Stop.” At the combined power voices of both druids, he jerked his head up.
The hectic color on Cassie’s cheeks was startling in her ghost-pale face. “You cannot let your guilt consume you. You must act. Solve the problem. Do not let this monster succeed again.”
At her words, Alun pushed back the guilt boiling like sullen lava in his gut. She was right. The only way he could save David was to leave the past behind. Keep the gift David had given him, the gift of redemption.
And use it to take Rodric Luchullain’s head.
Alun nodded to the druids and stormed out of the house, dialing Mal as he climbed into his car.
“What?” Mal’s voice over the scratchy connection was testy.
Alun put him on speaker. “I need backup.”
“Of course you do. You never call unless you need something.”
Alun forced his breath to calm, his heart to slow its headlong gallop. “David’s in danger.”
“He’s not the only one. Did you ever consider what the consequences of that little bombshell at the Revels might be to the rest of us?”
Alun jammed his key into the ignition. “The rest of who?”
“The rest of the family. Gareth. Me.”
“The Consort attacked you and Gareth?”
“The Consort? What in the hells are you on about? I mean the Queen—her royal pissed-off Majesty herself.”
He started the car and roared off down the street. “Why? What did she do?”
“For one thing, she hasn’t given Gareth leave to quit Faerie. He’s been stuck there since the Revels. His band had to cancel a sold-out concert, so I expect he’ll be none too popular with them or their manager when she finally cuts him loose.”
“Shite,” Alun muttered. “I never thought of that. What about you?”
“I’m on the fucking run, brother. She wants to put a tynged on me to bring you in, and she’s not particular about whether your head is attached to your body at the time. The only way I can avoid it is if I stay out of Faerie and away from her Royal Bitchiness.”
Alun pounded the steering wheel. “Damn them both to all the hells.”
“Both?”
“The Consort. He was behind the massacre of Owain’s clan.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“He was also the one who murdered those two achubydd you found.”
Mal’s muttered curses shifted to Welsh and increased in rancor. “Do you suppose she’s in on it too?”
“I couldn’t say. But he’s taken David, and if I don’t stop him, he’ll kill him just like he killed Owain.”
“I’d help you if I could—”
“I know.” He really did, despite their years of estrangement. “Watch your back.”
“Likewise. Luck of the hunt to you, my brother.”
Alun ended the call, and reached for his connection to the One Tree, the molten heat of his fae powers infusing his core. He’d need every bit of it tonight—with a price on his head, he’d need to mask his progress or he’d be taken before he could rescue David.
What I wouldn’t give for one of my old weapons. But he couldn’t spare the time to retrieve his sword or his bow from his apartment. The Consort had a lead on him already. No telling how quickly he’d— No.
Alun couldn’t think of David lying lifeless on the altar. He refused to allow it to happen. Not this time, even if the cost was his own life.