FORTY-SEVEN
The creak of the front door opening made Aly jump. She whirled round to see Calum stepping into the house.
“How did it go?” Her voice was thin and thready.
“I released everyone without charge.” Calum shut the door and walked into the parlour.
Aly stared at him, surprised. “They let you do that?”
“Sort of. Officially, I am in charge of the investigation into Cameron’s death, and to ensure the investigation is impartial”—Aly suppressed a snort—“no one from that station house is allowed to overrule my decisions. So I said that releasing them was contributing to my investigation.”
“So that’s it?” Aly crossed her arms. “You just let them all go and no one stopped you?”
“The DCI at the station tried to,” Calum said. “And she’s reporting me to my boss.” He ran a hand through his hair, his face creasing with worry. “I don’t know how Graham’s going to respond, to be honest.”
“You don’t think he’ll sack you, do you?
” If Calum lost his job over this, if they were both left with no income, things could get dire quickly.
Even for someone allowed to work for other guilds, there weren’t a great deal of options at this time of year.
And though Calum might accept her history, it would destroy him if he had to resort to illegal work.
“If the decision is up to him, then no.”
“But it might not be up to him?” Aly pressed.
Calum slumped into a chair in front of the fire. “You know what the police call Station House Eight?”
Aly sat across from him, the warmth from the flames seeping into her bones. “What?”
“Shit House Eight.” Calum gave a mirthless chuckle. “It’s where they send the shit coppers, the ones that are one step away from being sacked.”
“But you’re a good copper.” And a good person.
“Aye, but I reported a colleague for breaking the law, and the result was that a murderer went free. So I’m not exactly in the good graces of the higher-ups.”
Aly flicked a glance at him. “What did your colleague do?”
“He tortured information out of a witness.” Calum clasped his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees.
“The witness was a petty criminal, a pickpocket I think, so everyone said I should just let it go, because they’d got information to secure a conviction.
But Morrison tortured the fellow. I couldn’t just let it go.
” He turned his head to look at Aly. “The witness’s testimony was deemed inadmissible, the case fell apart, and the murderer walked free. ”
Aly reached for him, grasping his clenched hands. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Calum took a rasping breath. “I know. But . . .”
“But you’re still in shit because of it?”
Calum smiled, huffing out a laugh. “Something like that.”
“But you still released all the salchs, knowing what it could cost you.” She ran her thumb over the backs of his knuckles.
“I couldn’t charge them. I’d be sending innocent people to Faerie.”
Aly’s hand stilled and she tilted her head to look at him. He was staring into the fire, a far-away expression on his face. “Thank you.” Her voice came out a croak.
Calum’s head snapped towards her. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know.” Aly bit her lip. “But you called them innocent.” Her eyes stung with tears. “They’re salchs, they’re all demi-fae, but you still think they’re innocent.”
Calum leant closer to her, disentangling one of his hands from hers to cup her face. “Aly, listen to me.” His grey eyes, the colour of storm clouds, bored into hers. “There is nothing wrong with you, do you understand me?”
Aly swallowed, her throat bobbing against the edge of his palm. She nodded, blinking to stop the tears falling. His thumb rasped over her cheekbone, his featherlight caress soothing her nerves. She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.
“Aly.” Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her name to see Calum staring at her, his expression open and guileless.
“My opinion of you”—his tongue darted out as he wet his lips, and the sight sent a shiver through Aly—“how I feel about you hasn’t changed.
Fae, human, it doesn’t matter. I love you. ”
The words stretched out between them, lingering in the air and making Aly’s insides squirm. She peeled his hand off her cheek, launching to her feet. “Don’t do this.” She shook her head, tears stinging her throat.
Calum’s eyes widened, surprise and hurt flashing across his face. “Don’t what?”
Aly turned to face the fire, so she didn’t have to see the way his face crumpled, blotting at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.
There was a swish of fabric behind her, as though Calum was standing, then a heavy exhale.
“I’m sorry. I thought—well, I thought maybe you felt . . . it doesn’t matter.”
Aly whirled round to face him, her chest constricting at the pain lining his face. “Of course I do, you fool.” Her voice was hoarse, her throat stinging as she spoke. “Of course—” She swallowed the tightness in her throat. “Of course I love you.”
But she didn’t trust that he did. How could he, when she was everything he despised? He said it didn’t matter, but would it still not matter when he looked at her scars and realised he was in bed with a monster? Or when she said something cutting or cruel and he heard a fae’s voice in her words?
Calum’s brow was creased and he took a step towards her, hand outstretched. “I don’t understand.”
Aly dragged her hands through her hair, tangling them at the base of her plait.
“Because—because—” She shucked off her coat, throwing it over the back of a chair.
Her fingers trembled as she unfastened the hooks and eyes on her bodice.
She yanked the bodice off, rolling up her sleeves and thrusting her scarred forearms out at Calum.
He paled at the sight of them, the grey puckered lines slashed across her skin.
Aly’s heart clenched. “Because of these. I am everything you despise. I’m fae, I’ve tortured and killed on behalf of the cruellest crime lord this city has ever seen, I’ve”—she shoved her arms towards Calum, showing him the sheer density of the scarring on them—“I’ve let him take my magic, over and over again, I’ve—” A sob wrenched out of her throat, cutting off her words.
Calum stepped closer to her, his hands closing over her forearms and his thumbs tracing the webs of scars.
His grip was gentle, and despite everything the feel of his hands on her arms sent sparks through her veins.
She desperately wanted to lean into his touch, to pretend that he could feel what he claimed to. “Grant did this?”
Aly blinked in surprise. “Aye. Most of them. He didn’t like to share.”
“The scoundrel.” Calum’s lip curled in disgust.
Aly jerked her arms out of his grasp. “I let him. You can’t just keep blaming him for the things I’ve done.”
“And did you know what the steel blade would do to you?” Calum retorted. “Because I can guarantee he’s figured it out, and still he cut you with iron.”
Goosepimples broke out on Aly’s flesh. “That was probably part of the fun for him,” she said bitterly. “You say you love me,” she said, lifting her chin, “but how can you, of all people, love a demi-fae criminal?”
“Because you’re brave and principled, you understand me in a way no one else does, you make me laugh—you make me happy, Aly.” His hands slid up her arms to cup her face.
Aly reached for his hands, pulling them from her face and grasping them in front of her chest. “I was at the Caoineag’s market because I was trying to convince her to let me sell there.
” The words came out in a rush, before she could change her mind.
She had to tell him; he had to understand that she hadn’t changed.
“You were going to salch?” Calum’s voice was sharp as a knife. “Why would you—it’s too dangerous.”
“Because I need money.” Aly lifted her chin, staring him in the eye.
“I have thruppence in my pocket, no job, and limited options.” She let out a slow breath.
“You said before that you didn’t want to sleep with your informant because you didn’t want to think I was in your bed out of fear of what you’d do.
And I’m not your informant anymore, not really, but I’m living in your house with nowhere to go, and .
. .” She wrapped her arms around herself, hesitating. “What changed?”
“I realised I have to trust you.”
“What?” Surprise jolted through Aly.
“You trust me, enough that you moved into my home despite knowing the power it gave me over you. If you trust me enough to believe that I won’t turn on you if you say no, then I have to return that trust and believe that you will say no if at any time you don’t want to.”
That was it. She had to trust him to mean it when he said he loved her, despite her heritage and her past. That was what love was, in a very fundamental way. It was placing trust in someone else, aware that you could never truly know how they would behave, but having faith in them, nevertheless.
And she did trust him. It didn’t matter that he was a copper who despised fae, and she was a demi-fae criminal, because he was caring and decent, determined to do the right thing even when it risked his career, and he’d proven time and time again he would look out for her.
She moved closer to him, closing the distance between them, her grip tightening on his hands. “Then kiss me.”