Chapter Sixteen
Dante
She’s here. She’s here. And as far as I can tell, Oisin hasn’t done anything to harm her, at least physically.
I lead Ophelia over to the sofa so we can sit. I want to take her back to Lark’s rooms or, better yet, straight back home, but we probably need to find out exactly what’s happened before that. Lark needs all the information he can get before we leave him here alone.
That thought tempers my feelings of relief. We’re going to leave him here. I’m going to leave him here.
Ophelia isn’t crying, not quite, but it still takes her a few seconds to let go of me. She sniffs, blinks suspiciously wet eyes, and then looks from Lark to Grant and Oisin.
“Oh, you… He didn’t hurt me. I mean it.”
Grant doesn’t let go. The push of Oisin’s magic feels more like a curiosity than anything else.
“He still took you,” Grant bites out.
I’ve never seen him this angry. Not that I know him well, and yeah, he’s a vampire and I know he drained a high fae once, but still… I kind of didn’t expect it of him.
“Grant, please,” Lark says. “We should listen to what he has to say before you kill him.”
Oisin pales and Ophelia stiffens next to me. She’s not wearing the dress she went out in. Looks like Oisin found her something to wear—the blue dress is loose and looks comfortable.
After a second, Grant sighs. He lets go of Oisin and takes a step back. From one moment to the next, he transforms back into the friendly, affable guy he’s always been around me.
“Fine,” he says to Lark. “But if he tries anything…”
“I will not,” Oisin says. “You are not a selkie.”
“What’s your magic telling you?”
“That you are.”
Grant huffs a little laugh and flounces away to take the seat next to Ophelia on the sofa. She keeps one hand on my arm as she leans over into him for a second. I know she’s spent more time with him than I have, though I don’t think she was expecting him to be here with us.
Oisin pushes off from the wall but doesn’t come much closer. There are two armchairs in here as well as this ridiculously uncomfortable sofa, and Lark takes one, crossing one leg over the other. He fixes Oisin with a flat stare.
“Explain.”
“I did not kidnap her.”
Lark’s brow furrows. I frown, too. He can’t lie any more than Lark can.
“If you didn’t…” I begin.
“It was some other fae,” Ophelia says. “A few of them, I mean. I’d just got out of the taxi and I figured I’d text Cecile then and there that I’d got back safe, so I was walking up towards the wards, and they grabbed me. Came out of nowhere.”
“How did you and Oisin come to be acquainted then?” Lark asks.
“The fae brought me here. Somewhere. They put me in… I don’t know. A cell? A dungeon?” She sighs. “I was scared, obviously, but mostly annoyed. Worried.”
“Worried?” I ask.
“I knew you’d all panic and, come on, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why they’d grab one of us. Either it’s because of the fae in our pack—in which case, why take me and not literally anyone else—or it’s because of Lark.”
“Because of—” I cut myself off, studying her face, and when she looks away, realisation hits me. “You knew about our soulbond.”
Ophelia presses her lips together in a tight line and nods.
“You—Why didn’t you tell me? You were the one telling me to use an app and—”
“Dante,” Grant says softly. Ophelia scowls at me; she’s gearing up for an argument just like I am. “This might be better later on?”
“Fine,” I mutter. “You were worried.”
“I was,” Ophelia snaps back. “And then I was even more fucked off when I realised they didn’t lock the cell door.”
Grant does a double take. “Sorry, they what?”
“The bars are iron,” Oisin says, “so locking cells is not always necessary.”
“Can’t you just touch them through fabric or something?” I ask.
“We can, but the sheer presence of so much iron is taxing on us,” Lark replies. “The kind of cell Ophelia was placed in would likely have had more iron surrounding it than the bars alone. It will have been put in the walls, the floor…”
I glance at Ophelia, who shrugs. “I just walked out of there,” she says. “I was in some kind of… it seemed like a villa, really. Had no idea how I was going to get home, so I set off running. Straight into Oisin.”
He looks at her differently than he does the rest of us. I fight the urge to scoff. What, has she found her soulbond, too? Since she can apparently tell and I’ve spent years not noticing…
“Who took her then?” Lark asks Oisin.
“Why are you asking me?”
“You were in the vicinity. And a Seelie fae in the Unseelie court would not survive so long—whether my uncle is your patron or not—without being a purveyor of gossip.”
The corner of Oisin’s mouth curls up and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “A group of Seelie fae, who I often visit so I can collect their grievances and bring them to the court. Not that it does any good, of course. I found Ophelia on my way for a visit.”
“Why would Seelie fae want me to return?”
“Why would anyone?” Oisin says with a huff. “Our realm is dying, Your Highness. At this point, we will take whomever we can get.”
“Whomever?”
“I have my limits,” Oisin admits. “Hence, my terms.”
“Your terms?” Lark raises his eyebrows. “You are in no position to have terms.”
“Your uncle wants the throne, and I would rather see you on it than him.”
“That would appear to be the case for a great many fae,” Lark replies dryly, “as my uncle has not yet taken one of the crowns for himself.”
“The court wouldn’t allow it. Veles has the crowns. He said they would drain Aodhan within months, not years.”
“And yet you have been with the Unseelie court for years, Zomo said.”
Oisin nods. “I believe he has always known,” he replies slowly, “not that he has said anything, naturally. He has spent the months since your mother died putting his affairs in order. He will not be pleased to hear of your return.”
“He does not know.”
“I would assume he does by now.” Oisin shrugs when Lark frowns, and I glance over at Ophelia and Grant; they’re watching just as raptly as I am. “Any announcement would have to take place tomorrow. It would have been better tonight, but I was unable to arrive in time.”
“Get to the point,” Lark snaps, and my shoulders jump. Is Oisin hiding what he wants to do?
“Both of you need someone to wear a crown alongside you. You have sensed the extent of my magic; I am more powerful than just about any other fae in the court. You could waste time looking for another fae, or you could have me wear the other crown.”
They’ll have to bond. The thought makes me feel faintly sick.
“If I refuse?”
“If Aodhan reveals that he intends to rule with me, Veles may well change his mind.”
Lark frowns. “I never wanted to rule.”
It’s true, even if Oisin’s expression tells me he doesn’t take it the same way I do.
Lark never wanted to rule, but he has to, because otherwise, we’ll pay the price for him getting his power back.
Oisin has given him an out, even if it’s not the way Oisin wants things to do, but Lark can’t take it.
“I do not wish to rule with him,” Oisin says all in a rush. His skin is too dark to see if he’s blushing, but he drops his eyes and his shoulders lift defensively. “I do not trust him. He does not value Seelie the same way he values Unseelie, and he is only using me. Will only use me.”
“You knew that when you came to the court.”
“Yes,” Oisin says. He still can’t quite meet Lark’s eyes. “But I want… I wanted him to be right. He believes an Unseelie and Seelie will hold the crowns and the realm longer than two Unseelie alone.”
A muscle in Lark’s jaw ticks. “What do you think about that?”
Oisin shrugs one shoulder. “Your parents ruled for a long time. I no longer wish for the Seelie to be pushed out into the cold. We are all fae. We should all be treated equally.”
“You believe you can fix this?”
“I think we would have the power to try,” Oisin says, and now he meets Lark’s gaze fiercely.
Ophelia has hold of my hand and grips it tightly.
“Those are my terms. Aodhan is still at least half a day away. Tomorrow, announce that we will rule together. I will let Ophelia go and they can all return to the human realm.”
He gestures at the three of us sitting on the sofa. Lark frowns when he meets my gaze.
“Let her go?” Grant growls. I know what he’s thinking. Oisin doesn’t have the leverage he believes he does.
“He created a bond,” Ophelia says. “He said it would keep me safe.”
She’s glaring at Oisin now, and his gaze slides away from her quickly. Grant’s magic rushes out and he lets out a rumbling growl when he apparently feels it.
“What does it mean? The bond?” I ask.
“It will keep her safe,” Oisin replies. “Other fae will sense it. They already know her as Lark’s soulbond, but this will also place her under my protection.”
“Is that meaningful?” Lark asks.
Oisin doesn’t answer that. “I added conditions. We cannot be far apart unless I loosen the bond, to prevent her being taken again. If I die, so does she.”
Ophelia’s grip on my hand is painful. Grant leaps to his feet, but she reaches out and grabs his trouser leg before he can move.
“Wha-what the fuck?” I mutter. “You want us to cooperate, and you do this?”
“This is how fae work,” Oisin snaps, and when I look at Lark, he doesn’t dispute the claim. “It is not an unusual feature for a bond.”
I stare at Lark. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head. He thinks Oisin is right. He thinks this is right.
I stand and Ophelia lets go of my hand when I look at her. “I need to speak to you,” I say to Lark, the words clipped in my anger. “Now.”
He studies my face before he nods. Grant doesn’t need to be told; he sits next to Ophelia on the sofa again, positioned between her and Oisin.
Maybe, with time, he could break Oisin’s bond, but we don’t have that.
Oisin steps aside as I stride over to the door and once we’re outside, it shuts behind us, and I face Lark.
“Make sure they can’t hear us.”
“Dante…”
“Do it.”
His magic flares around us, and for a visceral moment, it is as though I can see it, cocooning us in a silent bubble.