Chapter Ten
Dante
Istorm out into the night, and I don’t even think about how close I should remain to the cottage as I stalk off into the trees. I need space. I need air.
I need anyone else but Lark to be here right now.
What has he done? I growl under my breath and keep walking. It’s one thing if he doesn’t want me to be his soulbond. Fine, whatever. I can overthink and dwell on that later, and I’ve got no doubt that’s precisely what I’m going to do. But he said he would help. He said he would get her back.
Some logical, fair part of me knows it isn’t his fault that she was taken. I mean, that’s why I said it. He’s not supposed to rule here and even if he was, it’s cowardly for them to have stolen Ophelia in a ploy to get Lark into a position they want.
But it feels like his fault. And that’s not even mentioning the deal he apparently struck with the witch, the one that put both our lives on the line.
I come to a sudden stop. Faint light spills from the windows of the cottage in the distance, illuminating the overgrown garden and vegetable patch.
What’s truly bothering me? My own guilt, sure.
If I’d gone on the night out like Ophelia asked, she wouldn’t have been alone coming back.
Maybe they’d have taken me instead. Maybe they wouldn’t have tried at all.
And the other thing. The logical thing. If Lark’s fate is to be king and I can’t wear a crown, then how am I his soulbond at all?
My stomach drops. I’m not. It’s that simple.
He’s not telling a lie because he believes it, and maybe he just got it wrong.
Fae deal in bonds, sure, but so do wolves, and I’ve known enough of them not to be able to recognise their mates right away.
Lark never seems to leave the café, so the pool of people he knows is pretty small.
What if I’m not his soulbond, but I’m meant to… introduce them or something? What if it’s someone I know?
What if it’s Felix?
The thought is jarring enough to startle a laugh out of me, even as my eyes prickle and my throat tightens. Felix would never agree to that. Besides, he likes a rough-and-ready kind of guy, not—
Not a prince.
Jesus. I scrub at my eyes, turning away from the cottage again, and I don’t hear Grant behind me until he puts a hand on my shoulder. I shout and jerk away, and he jumps back like a surprised house cat.
“Fuck, sorry, I—” He peers at my face, and a frown tugs his lips. “Sorry.”
“It’s not—I’m fine.” I wave a hand at him.
Grant huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, I’m fucking not,” he mutters. “Lark’s just brooding in there, and I want to ask the witch about my magic, but it feels like a bit of a taboo subject before he gets his head out of his arse and says yes.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“What?” Grant genuinely looks as though the thought has not occurred to him.
“He might refuse,” I say. “He doesn’t want to stay here. Be trapped here. He thinks the alternative is—Both of us will—” I can’t get the rest out. “He gave up his magic for a reason.”
“He’d better fucking say yes,” Grant growls. He glares at the cottage for a moment. “I mean it. But whatever. We’ll come up with another plan. Or two. You were right; we should have been doing that already.”
“I—We—Do you think we can do that?”
“Get her back?”
“Yes.”
Grant shrugs. “Sure, why not? Just have to find her. Get her. Bring her back. Three steps.”
He counts them off on his fingers as I stare at him. Grant looks right back, then shrugs again.
“I… It can’t be that easy?”
“I mean, there are details to consider, I guess,” Grant says, “but if he’s not going to get his magic back, he’s sure as shit going to give us every tip we need to get into the court.
If the witch can help me hide what I am, that’ll help.
And it’s not like Ophelia’s going to be sitting around waiting to be rescued, is it? ”
“No,” I say faintly.
“So finding her might be the trickiest thing because I’m sure she won’t be where she’s supposed to be.” Grant’s lips twitch. “Not like we have to kill anyone or solve a bunch of murders or stop a fae invasion or anything like that. We just have to find one person. No big deal.”
But if Lark gets his power back, he’ll be stuck here. I sigh and Grant shakes his head.
“And then we work out how to break a fae deal after that. If he agrees. A fourth thing, I guess.”
A laugh escapes me, making us both jump, but Grant grins when he hears it. He comes a little closer and nudges me with his shoulder the way that Kieran, Drew, and sometimes Quinn do. I guess he got that from Quinn.
“Having a wolf here would be pretty useful,” I murmur.
“Yeah. Gonna recommend Quinn next time. He’d have a riot.”
“He really killed that fae?” One attacked him and his mate, Asher, when they were at Asher’s flat. Quinn apparently tore his throat out. I suppress a shiver.
“More than one,” Grant says easily. He leans his head on my shoulder. We’re both watching the cottage. “You won’t have to do that. I’ll make sure of it, okay?”
“I can—”
“No. I mean, yeah, if push comes to shove, sure. But no. It’s not worth what it might do to you.”
“I’ll protect you, too.”
He lifts his head. “I don’t doubt that. Really.”
Some of the tension in my chest eases. Grant sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Right. He’s taking too long. I’m gonna go see what I can find out about my magic at least. You coming?”
“In a little bit.” I still can’t be in that room with him. Just a few more minutes.
Grant eyes me, but whatever he reads on my face settles him again. “Yeah, okay. Make sure you shout or something if anything spooky happens, okay?”
He walks off with a wave, and I glare at his retreating back. “That’s not cool!”
Grant laughs, and I shake my head, wearing my own faint smile.
I can’t believe he’s lifted my mood so quickly.
It’s not just about space from Lark now.
I need time alone to think and make a plan.
They’re all right. Ophelia is resourceful.
She’s powerful, too, and her knowledge of bond magic and healing is far more extensive than most witches can boast. I trust she’ll be alive and well when we find her.
So three things. Find her. Get her. Bring her back.
I wander in the direction of the cottage as I think.
Finding her is going to be the most difficult if Lark doesn’t get his power back.
He surely can’t come with us to the fae court if he doesn’t have enough magic, and we’ll be vulnerable, too.
Well, I will. Grant’s taken on at least one high fae before and he came out of that relatively unscathed.
But Lark seems to think Ophelia will be there, so that’s where we’ll go. I won’t be able to hide my magic, so I need to figure out a way not to stand out too much.
I dig my phone out of my pocket, annoyed that I didn’t grab anything before I ran out of the flat this morning. Yesterday morning? Who knows. Regardless, a notebook might have been more helpful, as well as clothes and food. Water. I sigh and turn my phone on.
For a while, I lose myself to the almost meditative feeling that always overcomes me when there’s a puzzle to solve and tap out a list of questions.
Can Grant sense Ophelia’s magic? If he can, can he pick it out if there are more powerful fae around her?
Is there any way I can help enhance his magic, maybe, or focus it into a specific spell?
I’m so lost to it that the sound takes me by surprise. My feet have carried me to the vegetable patch, and the general hum of magic from the plants is something I’ve started to get used to over the past few hours.
But here—I look up from my screen and squint, listening. Maybe I just heard, I don’t know, a bat or something? Something rustles.
Something near my feet.
I glance down. I’m standing next to a cabbage patch. Oh, okay, so maybe there’s a mouse or something rummaging around, looking for—
One of the cabbages rustles. It’s far bigger than I’d expect, round and almost swollen, dark green leaves curled in protectively. Magic reaches for me.
“Please don’t disturb my vegetables,” the witch says, and I yelp, almost tripping over my own feet as I back away from the cabbages.
“I—Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“You need not fret so much,” she says and smiles. She’s beautiful in the way all the fae I’ve ever seen are, even without their glamours. The shawl around her shoulders shimmers in the low light from the cottage.
“I think it’s just the right amount, really.”
She looks amused, at least, even if I’m bothering her vegetables and contradicting her. “Fae are often not as clever as they think. Particularly high fae. Hubris catches up to them in the end.”
“Is that why you treat Lark like that?”
“He is still mulling things over.”
That’s not an answer. I’ve not spent as much time around our new fae pack members as I could have, though it’s not like most of them are living in the building with us. Still, I know that’s a giveaway. Not answering when they want to lie.
“Your friend is resourceful, like you said,” she continues. “I am certain you will find her.”
I push my phone into my pocket. “Yeah, it’s getting her out of here that might prove tricky.”
“You will do your best to find a way.”
Something flickers above us. The witch lifts her face to the sky and I follow her gaze. Stars are scattered across the darkness, but as I watch, one flickers and then vanishes.
“What—what just happened?”
“This is why they are so worried,” she says, not looking at me. “The crowns channel the power of our realm, keeping it stable. Alive. Without someone on the throne, this entire place will collapse.”
My heart races. “Then why—” Why bet it all on Lark? Why would Lark run in the first place?
She does look at me now, and sadness colours her smile. “Crowns,” she repeats. “One fae cannot rule alone. Not for long. Of course, no one rules forever, but millennia are better than decades, and fate usually picks a new heir before the old one fades and crosses over.”
“Lark won’t take the crown because he can’t take the throne alone?”
“Most of our kings and queens have been soulbonded,” the witch says, “but you are his soulbond, and you are a witch. The crown would drain you quickly. Days. It would kill you. You cannot sit on the throne with him.”
Disappointment floods me, and now I’m even more confused than I was before. She said it too, that I’m Lark’s soulbond. But if his fate is to sit on the throne, and his fate is to bond with me, how can both be true?
“I don’t… Do you think he’s wrong?”
“About what?”
“About me being his soulbond?”
“I said it too, did I not?”
“But you could—He believes it. That doesn’t make it true.”
“It does not,” the witch says, “but he is not wrong. Of all the princes, Lark has always been the least impulsive. He did not cross over to your realm on a whim. Even if you cannot see it, every decision he makes is calculated. Measured.”
“Like the one where he decided not to tell me about any of this,” I mutter. “Sorry. Has he made up his mind yet?”
“No. I have left the vampire meditating on his power. You should come back inside. Perhaps you will give Lark the clarity he requires.”
I don’t see how. I don’t want to. But I have a list of questions for him too, steps we can take if he doesn’t get his power back. We don’t have much time, and Grant and I know nothing about the fae court.
“Yeah, okay,” I say, and the witch waits for me to fall into step with her before she starts walking.
“I prepared refreshments,” she says out of nowhere as we reach the door. “Of course, I will let Lark and your vampire inspect them, but you should rest and eat. So much lies ahead of you, and you need to be strong for it.”
Strong. I’m not sure that’s a word that’s ever been used to describe me, honestly. I nod, but she stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Whatever happens… I am certain you will endure it. Accept it, even, with time.”
“Endure it?” That doesn’t sound promising. I narrow my eyes. “Are you a seer, too?”
The witch lets out a bark of laughter. “No,” she says. “But I make educated guesses. Come, eat. Then convince your soulbond to ask for his power back.”
I follow her into the cottage. Yeah, fat chance of that happening.