Tribulation: Ascension Series, #5 4p3ll

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Revelation

Thank you!

Glossary of

Also by Laura Hall

About the Author

1

Sweat trickled along my hairline, sealing small tendrils to my temples. My arms shook from maintaining extension. The smell of ozone was thick. A shadowy figure darted in my periphery and I spun on my heel, sending a bolt of plasma into the space right before it. The shadow turned bight green and dissipated, and from a safe corner of the training room, Adam said, “Three out of five, Fiona. Not bad.” His Opaline aura flared, then faded as he released the spell. “But not good enough,” I replied, wiping sweat from my eyes. I crossed the room, my newly acquired sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. Taking his offering of a hand towel, I shook my head. “Lucian said no ward can withstand plasma, but if he’s wrong, or if I miss . . .” “You won’t,” he replied firmly. “We can’t gamble on whether or not Morrighan will transmute, unguarded, in our presence. This is our best shot.” I would zap her, and with her protective wards down, Adam would think her dead. Shaking out my fatigued arms, I said softly, “He won’t tell me anything else. And he always mutes his thoughts when I bring it up.” Adam paused. “Perhaps he’s worried she can still control him.” It had occurred to me as well. Of his role once in Maghmael, Connor had informed us that he would keep all weapons—magical or otherwise—from barring our path. His tone brooked no argument, and I had yet to muster the courage to ask why he wouldn’t use the full scope of his power against Morrighan. A part of me didn’t want to know. I glanced out a high window to see daylight fading. “I should get cleaned up. They’ll be here soon.”

Adam glanced at his watch and nodded. “Twenty minutes or so.” “Tomorrow morning, around eight? I want to play with knives.” He smirked. “I’ll be here.” “Thanks, Adam.” He nodded and departed, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Tomorrow night was the party, and the following morning, the three of us would leave for the Sidhe. To rescue Daphne and Ethan, and kill a Fae queen. If we could. I’d run through a zillion different scenarios, but every one of them came back to Morrighan’s death. She’d never let me live in peace. I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, fearing abduction. Imprisonment. Slavery. But why hadn’t Morrighan made me a slave already? Having felt the crushing weight of her psychic prowess, I knew she could have brainwashed me easily. Instead, she’d left my mind alone, at least the second time. Why? Did I have defenses against her that I didn’t know about? Or perhaps her unwillingness to bulldoze my head was due to sentimentality. If she really believed I was Eleana, she might have been waiting, or hoping, for me to believe it, too. But what I knew of Eleana didn’t gel with that idea. You don’t know what she’s capable of. She’ll never let us go. I didn’t think Eleana—the real person or her memories—would’ve taken kindly to the notion of popping out a brood of Fae babies for her tyrannical grandmother. So many questions. No answers. Scrubbing my flushed face with the towel, I didn’t see the Sidhe gateway open— I felt it, a tearing of space directly to my left. I leapt back and crouched, summoning plasma into my hands. The brilliant portal widened, edges flickering like white fire. A figure emerged, and I recognized Lucian a second too late. My twin bolts of plasma hit him square in the chest. His aura flared to blinding

proportions, so much that I didn’t see the portal’s closure until he fell onto his hands and knees. “Lucian!” I yelped, jolting forward and kneeling before him. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I grabbed his shoulders, angling for a look at his torso, and his aura snapped around me like a shining cocoon. No, not his aura. Plasma. The sensation was akin to cold toes in hot bathwater, only it was every nerve in my body that prickled to life. My scars flared with light and my hair floated with static. Lucian lifted his head. His eyes were bright silver, widened in awe. Rising to his knees, he touched my face with careful fingertips. Connor said smoothly, “Lucian, your timing, as always, leaves something to be desired. Kindly unhand my consort.” With a final graze of his hot fingertips on my face, Lucian shifted backward and stood. Our charges, no longer fueled by each other, cascaded into the ground. Much less gracefully than the Fae, I rose to my feet. I couldn’t hide my confusion from Connor. Nor did I bother trying, instead letting my thoughts and emotions tumble freely. Whereas Connor was cool darkness, Lucian was electric light. Stoirm a rugadh. Both were intoxicating. God help me. Connor, who wore the full mantel of his age and starry power, glanced at me and nodded minutely. He understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood. Lucian said, “Forgive my offense. I’ve come to beg your aid, and Fiona’s, in rescuing my mother from Morrighan.” I opened my mouth, but Connor asked, “Have you appealed to the Court of your origin?” Lucian bowed his head. “The Blood Court will not rise against the Light Court.” He looked up, eyes narrowed and fierce. “But from the king’s own lips, he will

not stand in the path of justice. Moreover, he gave me this.” He pulled a clear, fist-sized stone from his pocket. “That”—Connor shook his head, stupefied—“is the largest diamond I’ve ever seen.” I gaped. The precious stone radiated my father’s magic, a shifting tide of blue, aqua, green, and white. “What does it do?” I breathed. “Opens a portal directly into the palace in Maghmael.” Relief tore breath from my lungs in a gasp. Tension I hadn’t known I’d been carrying released, my shoulders slumping. Manannán mac Lir had been the wild card, his reaction to the queen’s demise an uncertainty. Now we not only had his but his help. “Did he say anything else?” I asked. Lucian glanced at me. “He said she has lost her way and hopes she may find peace again in Tír na Nóg Beyond.” I closed my eyes, thinking of a time, centuries ago, when Manannán mac Lir and Morrighan had shared love, children, and a grandchild. Despite his words to Lucian, it was nigh impossible to comprehend him giving us his blessing to kill her. I wondered inanely if he would grieve for her, and Connor offered silently, In his way, he will grieve. Aloud, he told Lucian, “A bargain, then. We will rescue your mother, and you will help us rescue two humans likewise imprisoned in Maghmael.” Lucian nodded quickly. “Agreed.” Then his eyes narrowed, glittering with comprehension. “Expertly played, Prime Thorne.” Connor grinned tightly, and I abruptly understood why he’d delayed my summoning of Lucian. He’d gambled on Lucian seeking us out and in true Faefashion, binding his cause to ours through a formal bargain. I didn’t think Lucian would have abandoned us once his mother was safe, but Connor, prudent as always, had chosen to preemptively address the loophole.

Connor tilted his head, then met my gaze. “Your family and friends have arrived. Lucian, if you’ll follow me.” As the Fae strode toward him, he added silently, Adam is bringing them to the library. Thank you, I told him fervently. For everything, smarty-pants. His amusement flowed through the bond. You’re welcome, love. Enjoy the evening. The men walked side by side from the training room. I stayed a few minutes more, my thoughts indistinct as I stared after them, before heading upstairs. By the time I arrived in the library, my dad, uncle, Marcus, and Katrina were waiting. My dad’s hug was the last and longest, and when we parted I saw a suspicious brightness in his eyes. “Delilah said you weren’t dead,” he said gruffly, “but for the love of God, don’t fucking disappear like that again.” Mal chortled as I gaped. “Dad, language!” With a final squeeze, my dad stepped back. Marcus, his arm snugly around Katrina’s waist, asked, “What’s this I’ve heard about a party?” Katrina rolled her eyes. “He takes twice as long to get ready in the morning as I do. If he’d known about the party, he’d still be at home packing.” I laughed and Marcus, grinning, kissed Katrina’s cheek. “You wake up beautiful, darling, while the rest of us need work,” he said warmly. Katrina wrinkled her nose, but couldn’t hide the gleam of contentment in her eyes. Mal, tinkering with the liquor cabinet, spoke over his shoulder, “Adam, where does the Prime keep the good stuff?” Adam chuckled and ed my uncle, while Katrina implored, “Tell me the kitchen staff is back, Fiona. I’ve been dying for their homemade pizza.” “I’m on it,” said Adam, as Mal caressed a bottle of aged whiskey. Katrina and Marcus ed them, placing pizza orders and doling out tumblers. I watched, my heart aching with happiness and my eyes misty, until my dad tugged me onto a couch beside him.

His hazel eyes were somber. “What’s wrong, pumpkin?” I shook my head, fighting a damnable tremble in my lower lip. “Nothing, Dad. Just really glad to see you. How’s Montana?” “Nice try. What’s going on?” I sighed, knowing a lie would be pointless. Frank Sullivan and Connor Thorne— the only two people on the planet who could see right through me. “I have to go away again. Not for long,” I said as his brow creased, “but there’s something I need to do in the Western Sidhe.” Katrina, having wandered back over, asked softly, “Ethan?” I nodded, meeting her expectant gaze. “I’ll find him, Kat.” She swallowed. “My family would be forever in your debt.” I glanced across the room and found Marcus watching me. Though he spoke softly, his voice carried in the sudden quiet, “I have a debt to repay as well.” Katrina spun. “Marcus, no.” He smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, darling, but you know I must.” He met my gaze. “I’m coming with you. And before you say anything, Fiona, know that it was Delilah who told me I must go.” The silence was so thick I could hear blood rushing in my ears. Death all around you. “No,” I said sharply. My dad made a surprised noise as Marcus knelt before me. “Mórgacht,” he said urgently, “do not forbid it. Delilah has Seen and spoken. I must be in Maghmael when you face Morrighan.” I scanned his face. “Why?” I whispered. He shook his head. “She didn’t say. But you know I can be useful. How were

you planning on dealing with the Light Court guards?” “Connor was going to handle them,” I said hesitantly. Marcus asked softly, “Would it not be better for him to conserve his energy? I can put them to sleep.” He paused. “All of them.” His oceanic eyes were calm, without artifice. I could hardly believe what he was saying. “The entire Court?” I asked mutedly. “All but Morrighan, and perhaps a handful of High Lords and Ladies. But the guards and general populace, without a doubt.” Tentative excitement fluttered in my veins. “What about the beasts of the Underworld?” My dad blurted, “The what?” Marcus shook his head. “The hounds and ravens are beyond my powers.” Rubbing my forehead, I flopped back onto the couch. The ceiling didn’t yield any insights, and neither did my chaotic mind. Connor was right—Water’s Eye had changed me. Made me more cautious, more sensitive to the consequences of my actions. If Marcus died in Maghmael . . . I couldn’t complete the thought. I wanted so badly to believe that the death Delilah had Seen was Morrighan’s, but it would be irresponsible to not consider alternatives. Ethan. Adam. Daphne. Marcus. Lucian, even Greta. Or Connor himself, whose death meant mine, as well. It was Adam who finally broke the silence, saying softly, “Please consider it, Fiona.” I looked across the library at Katrina, who wore a brave face but couldn’t hide the fear in her eyes. She said, “If he goes, I go.” “You’re not leaving us behind,” said my dad, and my uncle nodded. Sitting up, I felt the weight of duty settle on my shoulders. “No,” I said softly. “Shifters, even alphas, can be too easily controlled by the Fae. I’m sorry. And

Mal, I know your powers are formidable, but it’s not happening and that’s final.” I gazed at Marcus, still on his knees. “You will take no undue risks. You will follow orders without question. You will stay as far back as your power’s range allows. Do you understand?” Marcus bowed his head. “Yes, mórgacht.” “What’s that word he keeps saying?” asked my dad. Marcus stood, took a stiff step backward, then bowed with courtly flourish. “I serve her majesty, Princesa Fiona Sullivan Ní Lir.” There was a beat of stunned silence, then my dad sighed. “Ah, hell.”

2

I hadn’t been paying enough attention during the planning session with the stylists, because the dress unveiled late the following afternoon was a surprise. From Connor’s smug expression, I knew instantly that he’d not only purposefully misled me, but that his role in its design had been more than just peripheral. Deceptively modest, the strapless sheath was of deepest black silk, so buttery soft it felt like sin. Once it was on, I turned to face the floor-length mirror and saw what the hanger had concealed. A slit on the right side, cut scandalously close to my hipbone. “Leave us.” The team that had handled my makeup and hair scattered, and in moments Connor and I were alone. He moved behind me, his hands settling on my shoulders. He looked exquisite in a tuxedo, his dark hair tousled to roguish perfection, his eyes glowing mutedly as they raked me from head to toe. Lips grazed my exposed neck, lifting goose bumps. “Every time you see me looking at you tonight, I will be imagining tearing this off you.” Fangs glinted as they lengthened, and the whisper of his breath made my body tighten in anticipation. “I’m going to leave my mark, here where all may see, so that no one will question to whom you belong.” “How romantic,” I drolled. His eyes flashed up, starry black. “You are mine, Fiona,” he said and struck. A garbled sound escaped me and an immediate, explosive climax buckled my knees. His arm around my waist kept me upright, while his other hand moved assertively beneath the dress’s high slit. With a low growl, he jerked me back against him. Another peak hit, and another, until with the final scraps of rational thought, I swatted at his arm.

With deliberate slowness, he licked the puncture marks and slipped his fingers from between my shaking legs. Meeting his amused eyes in the mirror, I scowled unconvincingly. “You wrinkled the dress,” I accused. He laughed at my obvious lie. The fabric, spelled so lightly I could see only the barest sheen of blue at certain angles, was uncreased. “Do you feel confident with our cover story?” he asked, dropping a swift kiss to my shoulder. I nodded. “The media attention was too much for me, so I holed up at an undisclosed retreat in the mountains for a year, where you ed me for the last few months.” “Good,” he said, stepping back. I turned to face him. “Won’t news of your stasis eventually leak?” “No,” he said, but didn’t offer more. He strode to the windows overlooking the front of the compound. I ed him, and we watched a continuous stream of limos approaching and disembarking from the gravel drive. “Who’s the scariest person here tonight?” I asked. “Besides you, of course.” His fingers entwined with mine. “Janelle and Ian won’t be in attendance, but the Northeastern Triumvirate should be arriving soon. I’ve known Daniel Engström many centuries, but I don’t trust him with any significant secrets.” “He doesn’t know about the compagno bond?” I guessed. Connor shook his head. “He will know you are Fae, as he’s had his own dealings with them.” He hesitated. “The Primes, and now you, are the only ones who know he is the Conclave’s North American emissary.” I shuddered. I’d only recently found out about the existence of the vampire super-council.

“He’s a spy, you mean.” “In the sense that he reports quarterly to the Elders, yes. I’m certain you’ve already been a topic in his ings. Do try to be circumspect in his presence.” “Avoid him,” I translated, nodding. “Got it.” A soft knock sounded behind us. “Enter,” said Connor, and Adam walked in. I grinned at his attire. “Seriously, those robes have to go. Can we start a petition or something?” He rolled his eyes. “It’s time,” he said, looking expectantly at me. “Are you ready for this? The media microscope?” I held up a hand and ticked off fingers. “Don’t trip. Don’t curse. Don’t talk to Prime Engström. Don’t get drunk. And don’t eat too much or my dress will split. Did I miss anything?” Connor chuckled and even Adam cracked a smile. He glanced at Connor. “I came to tell you, too, that I just saw Gabriella downstairs. She arrived with Prime Engström’s retinue.” I winced at the name of Connor’s ex-consort, who’d been a victim of the Liberati and once rescued, had tried to take a bite out of me. Through the compagno bond, I sensed Connor’s lack of surprise, as well as a small thread of dread he couldn’t suppress. Outwardly, he merely nodded and looked askance at me. I said quickly, “Number six. Avoid Gabriella.” I frowned. “She was pretty out of it at the time, but do you think she re trying to bite me and being deflected by the compagno bond?” “I took care of it,” Connor assured me. I met his mild gaze. “You’re definitely the scariest one here.” He grinned and lifted an elegant hand. “After you.”

As we crossed the living room adjacent to his bedroom, heading toward the foyer, I said idly, “You know, it’s kind of a man cave in here. The walls are dark, the furniture is dark. Don't get me wrong, it’s pretty in a modern-rustic sort of way, but maybe we can lighten it up some? Get a few plants, new curtains? When we get back from Maghmael?” “Of course, mo spréach.” Behind me, Adam said, “She babbles when she’s nervous.” Connor hummed in agreement. “Shut it,” I said without heat. They were, after all, right. Logically, I knew this was just a stupid party. I’d never been much of a social creature, but even I could handle smiling and nodding for a few hours. It would be over soon, and then I’d have a valid reason to be nervous, as we made final preparations to leave for the Sidhe. And said our goodbyes to those we were leaving behind. But I was still nervous. That bad feeling from earlier was still with me, amorphous and distracting.

3

In the hallway, a tuxedoed Declan waited with an unfamiliar woman. She was in her late forties or early fifties, attractive, with brown curls arranged in a stylish updo. Instead of evening wear, she wore a smart black pantsuit and stilettos and carried a clipboard. An Emerald aura wreathed her shoulders. “It’s about flipping time,” she growled at Connor, then her sharp gaze dissected me. “Bloody perfect. You’ll photograph like a dream. I’m Margot.” I shook her hand, smiling so wide I probably looked like a loon. “It’s so nice to meet you.” Margot smirked. “Aren’t you a peach. I hear you have brains, too, and don’t put up with the Prime’s bullshit.” Declan coughed into his hand to cover a laugh. Connor said smoothly, “As you know, Margot, I have a weakness for intelligent women with tongues both sharp and skilled.” Margot blushed but didn't seem unused to such comments. She winked at me. “He thinks he can flirt his way out of anything.” She touched her ear where a small communication device rested, then snapped to attention. “Okay, people, it’s showtime. Declan and Adam come out first, then sweetcheeks and his ladylove.” Like cattle, we were herded into the elevator. The small space magnified the triple threat of the Western Triumvirate, buffeting me with their potent auras. At least Adam’s heat, Declan’s pulse, and Connor’s dark vibration preoccupied me, and when the doors opened on the lobby of the compound, I wasn’t nearly as anxious. Declan and Adam stepped out, and at their appearance, a hush spread over the hundred or so gathered partygoers.

“Now,” hissed Margot. Connor’s hand on my back guided me from the elevator and directly into the party, which at some unspoken signal began to once more hum and flow around the twenty draped cocktail tables set up in the space. Contrary to my expectation of flashing cameras and shouted questions, the atmosphere was politely celebratory. Nearly all the faces turned toward us were smiling; many lifted glasses in salute. A lively string quartet provided a refined backdrop to the cross-section of elite society. Connor began moving among the tables, doing his politician-handshaking routine, while I smiled and nodded, promptly forgetting every name as soon as it was spoken. When I finally saw a familiar face, I excused myself and made a beeline for Katrina. She was standing alone at one of the cocktail tables and smirked as I approached. “Need a drink?” she chirped. I accepted the offered glass, guzzled the contents, then sputtered, “Apple juice?” She laughed. “You made me swear not to let you get drunk.” “I’m an idiot,” I grumbled, eyeing her martini longingly. “Where’s Marcus? Couldn’t handle a rented tux?” She looked down, fussing over a nonexistent problem with the neckline of her dress. “With Lucian, I think. He said he’d try to make it for the dancing later.” Guilt squeezed my chest. “I’m sorry, Kat,” I whispered. She looked up with a brave, false smile. “It’s his choice. I will say, I’ve never been the type to sit around waiting for a man to come home safely. It’s going to be pretty weird. At least I’ll have Frank and Mal waiting with me.” While I tried to think of something meaningful to say, her eyes lifted over my shoulder and their brown shade bled toward yellow. “Incoming,” she whispered. A second later, I felt the frigid embrace of an exceptionally powerful vampiric aura. Before I even turned, I knew who it had to be.

“Prime Engström,” I said, extending a moderately clammy hand toward the Viking demigod staring down at me. “Fiona Sullivan. Nice to meet you.” Arctic blue eyes perused my face, then dropped to linger on Connor’s mark on my throat. Almost as an afterthought, he shook my hand, releasing me after a bare second. His distaste was ill-concealed, which meant he wanted me to know exactly how he felt about me. Not in the mood to make friends, I said, “Not a fan of the Fae, huh?” He blinked, frosty expression not changing. “What is your game, I wonder,” he mused in a faintly accented voice. “Political sway? Fame and influence? Connor might be blinded by your . . . attributes,” he sneered over the word, “but I am not.” Be circumspect. I bit my tongue on words with an opposite definition, and instead said, “Honestly, I’m just here for the food.” I glanced at Katrina, who was glaring daggers at the Prime. “Are there hors d’oeuvres? Did I miss the trays?” I smiled widely at Engström. “Have you seen any cheese? I love cheese.” I was babbling and nearly melted with relief as Connor stepped up behind me. His hand curving around my hip felt like a lifeline. “Daniel, I see you’ve met Fiona. You must forgive her, she’s often preoccupied with food.” The tone was humored, but none of us missed the thread of steel beneath. A woman’s voice, vaguely familiar, said bitingly, “How bourgeois of her.” Gabriella moved into view beside Prime Engström and snuggled under his accommodating arm. The petite brunette was flawless in a beaded ivory gown. A little plastic surgery—or maybe sharing blood with a Prime—had done wonders, because the scars of her ordeal with the Liberati were gone. Despite our conflicts of the past, I wanted to feel comion for her, but the haughty contempt in her caramel eyes was just too much. Annoyance drowned the last, feeble vestiges of my civility; Connor squeezed my hip in warning, but he was too late.

“Hi, Gabriella,” I said brightly. “You’re looking less psychotic these days. New hairstyle?” Connor sighed. Gabriella’s eyes flashed with rage, irises swirling as she summoned glamour. Unaffected, I shrugged and smiled. “Sorry. You’re nowhere near my weight class. Maybe hang on another thousand years and try again?” Prime Engström’s hand blurred, seizing Gabriella’s fingers several inches from my face, nails angled at my eyes. I blinked, delayed fear messages shooting down my legs. Engström didn’t look at Gabriella as he effortlessly trapped her arms against her sides. His pale eyes locked on Connor. “It seems we both need tighter leashes on our women.” I bristled, but Connor’s anger filtering through the bond mollified me. Cool fingers teased the mark on my neck, generating vivid recall of where those fingers had been when he’d made it. My angst drained away. Clever vampire. “If you’ll excuse us,” Connor said graciously. Engström nodded, and without another glance at me, strode away with Gabriella still sealed to his side like a badly trained puppy. I turned, meeting Connor’s reproachful gaze. “I’m sorry,” I said, wincing. “You know how I get with your crazy exes.” Katrina said softly, “I’m so proud to have such a badass as my friend.” Connor didn’t share the sentiment. “I asked for caution, mo spréach. Instead, you revealed that you’re unaffected by vampire glamour.” “I thought I covered that angle with ‘come back in a thousand years.’ No?” Katrina made a small noise. “She was pretty powerful. Made me super dizzy.” My stomach sank. “Shit.” “She’s been drinking from Daniel for months,” said Connor softly, then

smoothed the remaining worry from his face. “What’s done is done. Come, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” We said goodbye to Katrina and wove once more through the crowd. Our destination was a man, silver-haired and dignified, standing near the front doors and looking like he’d rather be flayed alive than mingle. As we approached, his face lit up with a smile. “Prime Thorne, so glad to see you,” he said, pumping Connor’s hand. “And this must be Fiona Sullivan. An absolute pleasure.” I was treated to the same enthusiastic handshake. “Fiona, let me introduce Dr. Edmund Clark of the Celestine Institute’s Board of Directors. I asked him here tonight so that he might tell you what he told me.” Edmund nodded eagerly, fixing dark eyes on my face. “After the… incident last year, Ms. Sullivan, we launched an internal investigation. The project Dr. Valcourt and Newberry were working on was privately commissioned and funded by an overseas benefactor. Unfortunately, our inquiries haven’t yielded any names, but you have my assurances that the investigation will remain open until we have answers. I’m so terribly sorry for any pain you suffered during your brief visit.” My theory that Morrighan was somehow behind the mad scientists’ plot took on water and sank. I still thought she might have had something to do with the development of the Lodestone drug; otherwise, why had she abducted Daphne? But masterminding the destruction of infrastructure across a state and killing me to achieve it? It simply didn’t fit with the must-have-grandbabies motive. “Thank you, Dr. Clark,” I said haltingly. “You said overseas. Do you have a general idea of where?” He nodded proudly. “We’ve narrowed it down to the UK.” Which had a population upward of fifty million. Great. I cleared my throat, stuffing down disappointment. “So somewhere in the UK, there’s a person or organization who wanted to destroy your Institute. Any idea why?”

For the first time, Dr. Clark lost confidence. “Not at all. Occasionally we have protestors against the distribution of MMOs to impoverished nations, but they’ve never demonstrated any violence.” “Magically modified crops are certainly controversial,” noted Connor, “but it’s doubtful their naysayers are behind the attack on the Institute.” I had to agree. “Well, thank you for the information, Dr. Clark,” I said, offering a polite smile as I shook his hand again. “Enjoy the party, please.” “Thank you, I will,” he said, though we both knew he’d be out the door in five minutes. He wandered away, and Connor said, “Not the answers you were hoping for, I know, but I promised to tell you everything. The Institute was very forthcoming. I reviewed a complete list of their ongoing contracts, and none seem contentious enough to warrant an attack on their headquarters.” “So we’re left with someone wanting to use me as a bomb,” I said, rubbing my temple against an oncoming headache. Connor drew me into his arms and kissed my forehead. Cameras flashed all around us, and Margot said stridently, “Goddamn perfect. Front page everywhere. I already told you, no interviews yet, Janice. Be glad you were invited at all. Now get out of my face, all of you. Shoo! Shoo!” I sighed into Connor’s neck. “Is it bedtime yet?”

4

The following two and a half hours were a test in endurance. Thankfully, I didn’t have to deal with Daniel Engström and his sassy pet again. By the time Declan ushered me to the elevator, I felt like a well-used punching bag. Too many auras. And annoying personalities. I thought longingly of the oracle Airmed, who’d begun instructing me on my particular gift of Sight. I didn’t the time I spent with her—Morrighan wiped my memory of my first visit to the Sidhe, and nothing had thus far been able to crack her lock—but I came out of the Sidhe with both control over my lightning and a painfully enhanced ability to see and sense auras. I doubted the culmination of my training with Airmed had been for me to suffer from overstimulation for the rest of my life. “Want a massage, sparky?” asked Declan as I pressed thumbs into my temples. I gave him a sour look. “What I want is a bottle of wine and a vacation. Preferably at the same time.” His small smile was tinged with worry. “Maybe you guys should wait another day? At least give yourself time to recover.” I grunted. There was no recovering. “I’ll be fine.” When the elevator doors opened, I stepped out first and kicked off my heels. Declan picked them up before I could; I glared at him. “I know,” he said mildly, “you hate being taken care of. Too bad. I get to do it for another few hours.” In that way, the party was a blessing—I was too numb from socializing to feel the impact of his words. The knowledge that come morning, we’d be leaving for the Light Court. In Maghmael, we’d do the unthinkable. Kill a near-immortal Fae queen.

We stopped outside the doors of Connor’s suite. Our suite. He was still downstairs politicking. Though he enjoyed it, sleep wasn’t a necessity for him, and waking up to an empty bed was a normal occurrence. One that didn’t bother me. Though it would have been nice if he were here—tonight of all nights. I opened the door and turned to say good night to Declan. “Before I forget, this is from Adam.” He held out a hand. Resting on his palm was a small capsule ringed with glowing white, the latter discernible only to me. The telltale signature of an Opal mage’s spellwork. I frowned. “What—” “To help you sleep.” Before I could argue, Declan went on, “We both know you need to rest tonight and the chances of your brain letting you are zero.” “But his magic doesn’t work on me.” He shrugged. “Can’t tell you what’s in it, just that Adam assured me the effects will wear off well before you wake. Please, sparky, take the pill. For me. I’m going to be worried enough as it is.” I sighed and took the pill. It was cool in my palm. “Fine. Tell Adam thank you. Now give me a hug.” Declan gave epic hugs, and not just because he was a big man with strength he wasn’t afraid to use. As an alpha shifter, his aura was hot and pulsing. It was like receiving two hugs in one, arms and aura, and reminded me of my dad. Not the Fae king who’d donated sperm, but the man who’d raised me as his own. When Declan drew back, his blue eyes were bright with worry. “See you later,” he said gruffly. I smiled with bravery I didn’t feel. “We’ll be back before you know it. Besides, we have a lot of catching up to do.” He grinned. “We sure do. Good luck, Fiona.”

I waited until the elevator doors closed behind him before entering the suite to shower off the eighty layers of makeup, hairspray, and lotion I’d been subjected to for the party. I took my time getting ready for bed, hoping that Connor would appear in the interim, but as the clock inched toward midnight I gave up. Alone in the massive bed, Adam’s pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other, I tested the compagno bond just in case—it was still muted for our protection. With my options limited to wallowing or freaking the fuck out about tomorrow, I took the next logical step and swallowed the pill. I was out before my head hit the pillow.

I dreamed of Morrighan, beautiful and grave, walking across a battlefield. Her hair was unbound, a waterfall of spun light down her back. The hem of her pale gown was soaked to the knees with blood. I walked behind her, my footsteps mirroring hers. There were others, too, wandering the field of death as we were. Women of all ages, all wearing the dark blue robes that marked them as devotees of Morrighan. She was their high priestess. Their teacher and leader. Their master. Scattered across the damp, muddy field like so much debris were bodies, injured and dying. Against a distant drumbeat sounded their pleas and cries. As Morrighan moved among them, they uttered prayers for deliverance. They were granted their wish—with each precise wave of her hand, Fae spirits were released from broken bodies. To the north, behind us, the sky was growing dark. A different army was gathering at Morrighan’s command—hundreds upon hundreds of crows. And in the forests around us, more beasts converged, waiting for her summons. Their yips and howls raised the hair on my neck. The dream was too real, details layered upon details. I could even smell the stomach-churning scent of ruptured bowel beneath the pungent rosemary salve in my nostrils. I wasn’t dreaming. This was a memory of Eleana’s. “This is the weight of power,” Morrighan told me, glancing over her shoulder. Tears tracked through the grime on her face, and the whites of her eyes were streaked with red misery. “Sacrifice,” mused Morrighan, fingers twitching—a woman’s pained gasps fell silent. “But they will live again in Tír na Nóg Beyond,” I said in Eleana’s voice. “It is only this world they leave. The world of flesh.”

Morrighan stopped abruptly and turned. Her features were tight, expression so severe I had to stop myself from moving back a step. “Your obsession with these humans is abhorrent to me. They murder your kin. Hunt us. Burn us. Scatter us to the edges of time. And you… you want them to win? To have this world that is ours by right?” “It’s not ours,” I retorted. Her laughter made my skin prickle. “That’s where you’re wrong, little one. All worlds are ours. It was once so, and will be so again.” “At what cost, Grandmother? How many must die?” Pale fingers rose and fell; another life ended. “As many as it takes.” Her power was frightening, her mind even more so. And yet, she was my grandmother. I knew she’d never hurt me. “Why won’t you let me fight, then? If we’re all called on to sacrifice?” Morrighan sighed. “Because, naïve child, you are on the wrong side of this war.”

5

Something was very wrong. I was awake but couldn’t move my body. My eyes wouldn’t open. Panic fluttered, giving my heart wings. I screamed for Connor through the compagno bond, but there was no response. “Fiona! Wake up, goddammit!” Someone—Kat?—was yelling my name. Hands gripped my shoulders and shook me. Other voices ed her. My father. Then Uncle Mal. Vibrant sapphire light bathed my eyelids as my uncle chanted. He cursed, and his voice rose until he was shouting. The light grew so bright I screamed again. This time, the entire compound heard me. I launched off the bed, half-feral, and landed in a crouch several feet away. Kat, my dad, and Mal stared at me with the same shock I felt. When a bright blue protective ward shimmered into place around them, I realized I was lit up like a small star. Plasma dripped from my hands, burning quarter-sized holes in the priceless Turkish rug. After an endless moment wherein I considered burning down the entire compound, I yanked my power back to manageable levels. “What—what happened?” I choked out. They traded a loaded glance. By some unspoken drawing of straws, my dad was picked to break the news to me. “Well…” He cleared his throat, eyes too wide. “It seems that they… left.” “Say that again.” “Connor, Lucian, Adam, and Marcus went to Maghmael early this morning,”

said Mal matter-of-factly. “I saw the portal open in the woods. I figured you were with them.” Adam’s pill—they’d drugged me. No spell, just good old-fashioned narcotics. Assholes. Without checking, I knew the compagno bond was either muted or inactive due to distance. They’d left me. He’d left me. Betrayal was too mild a term to describe what I felt. This was spiked, dipped in poison, and cold. The deepest, darkest cold. “Why did they do this?” asked Kat brokenly. “They needed you. Didn’t they?” I was too angry to speak. “I’m sure there was a good reason,” offered Mal. “Maybe Lucian had some new information,” Kat attempted. “Something that put you in more danger than they first thought.” “Stop it, both of you,” snapped my dad. “They fucked up royally and she has every right to be furious.” He turned to me. “What do you need right now, Fiona? Besides something to kill.” I huffed a soundless laugh and pushed to my feet. “Hell if I know.” The door of the suite flew open, slamming against the wall. Declan, backed by two of his pack, surveyed the room and finally turned yellow wolf-eyes on me. “Those motherfuckers!” he growled, voice almost too guttural to be understood. The yellow drained from his eyes, leaving them tortured and very human. “They didn’t tell me, Fiona. I swear I didn’t know.” “How did you find out?” I asked. One of Declan’s wolves stepped forward with a piece of stationary—I recognized the ivory stock. The man’s eyes were ringed with white, and his aura

twisted and bucked with fear. I took the paper, idly noticing that tiny sparks still drifted from my skin. As soon as the note was in my possession, he skittered back to his alpha.

Declan, Delilah said there will be death in Maghmael. If Fiona were captured, her fate would be akin to it. I could not risk her. Keep her safe. C

Kat, reading over my shoulder, hissed, “Prick.” Oddly, my anger deflated the tiniest bit. Not because I realized Connor had acted out of love, but because I knew he simply couldn’t help it. We’d been here before, he and I. It was our fatal flaw. Delilah had been warning me since the beginning that Connor and I were not an easy pairing. That there would be struggle. And pain. And here it was—here it would remain. He would forever try to shield me from danger, and I would forever resent him for his misplaced chivalry. I crumbled the note and tossed it on the floor. “I’m going for a run. Alone.” When no one moved, I summoned plasma. “Get out.” They fled. My dad was the last to leave. He gave me a sad smile and murmured, “Praesent ut libero.” I nodded.

Live to be free. The door closed behind him. I walked to the windows and stared at the gray sky and dark forest beyond the compound. Low clouds clung in places to the canopy. The ground would be damp, the paths slick. Perfect for a grueling run. A world away, others fought in my place. Just like Morrighan had done to Eleana so many centuries ago, and to me more recently, Connor had taken away my freedom to choose. Again. A murder of crows lifted from the treetops. Their flight looked uncoordinated. Chaotic. But I knew the birds merely executed patterns too complex to perceive. And suddenly, I wasn’t sure who the real enemy was.

6

On mile three, I slowed to a jog and shouted, “I said I wanted to be alone!” Leaves rustled. I turned, ready to berate whoever was shadowing me, but no one was there. Then movement pulled my gaze down to a set of glowing yellow eyes. The massive gray wolf shouldered through underbrush and stepped onto the path. Steam drifted from his nostrils. He pawed the ground, leaving nail tracks in the mud. “Declan.” I sighed. “I’m safe, okay? I won’t run away like last time.” Connor had entrusted my safety to Declan once before, but I’d been more like a prisoner back then. I’d slipped out from under his nose, and it had taken a long time for Declan to forgive himself. The wolf shook its shaggy head. Men and their goddamn pride. “You—possibly more than anyone—know what happens when I feel suffocated. Just give me some space!” He whined and pawed the ground. “I don’t speak wolf,” I snapped. The whine turned to a growl moments before an icy aura tickled my back. My sweat turned freezing. Behind me, a cool voice said, “Miss Sullivan, a word.” I turned with a sigh. Declan padded forward, his large head pushing against my hip, the growl still tickling in his throat. Daniel Engström looked ridiculous standing on a muddy forest path in his

thousand-dollar suit. There was a time he would have scared the hell out of me —his age and power were immense—but there was little he could do to me now. Or so I thought. “What do you want?” I asked. His grin made me shudder. “I’m here to inform you that you’ve been summoned to stand trial before the Conclave. You have until sundown to prepare for our departure. Should you choose to ignore this summons, it will be my utmost pleasure to rip off your head and let Gabriella suck you dry.” Whatever response he expected from me, it wasn’t what I gave—a belly laugh. He hissed; Declan’s growl turned vicious. “This is too rich.” I chuckled. “What’s that saying? Oh, right—out of the frying pan into the fire. Connor is going to kill you.” “Your Prime isn’t here, is he?” Engström asked with a chilling smile. “And his mighty Alpha is under my control—toothless, as it were. Surrender yourself. Though it’s not likely, there’s always a chance the Conclave will let you live.” I wasn’t laughing anymore. One glance at Declan confirmed the truth—the wolf’s eyes were tortured and enraged. Saliva dripped from his mouth. His upper lip was curled above long, sharp teeth. And the sounds he was making… they were unlike anything I’d heard before, on the boundary between animal and human. Suddenly, the wolf’s long, elegant head jerked upward. I gasped, “No!” but it was too late—his howl was loud and long, tinged with the magic of the pack. Seconds later, howls rose all around us. The forest shuddered as the pack mobilized for battle. It was Engström’s turn to laugh, and he did. “They’ll all die,” he said noncommittally. “But if that’s what you want, so be it.” I sank my fingers into the fur of Declan’s neck. “Call them off. Now. Please.”

Engström’s aura grew more pronounced. Frost formed on the branches and leaves nearest him. He looked gluttonous at the possibility of slaughtering innocent shifters. “I’ll come!” I shouted over the growing noise of the pack. “Don’t hurt them!” I was too late again. Engström lifted his hands, fingers stretched wide. Power surged around us, squeezing my chest. Instantly, the pack went silent. Declan staggered beside me, dropping to his stomach with a whine. His eyes closed. Plasma roared into my body, lifting my hair and shining so bright that Engström threw an arm over his eyes. “You can kill them,” I said in a voice of power, “but you won’t walk away from it.” Engström hissed at me, fangs bared, more beast than man. “Release them or fry, Engström!” I didn’t actually know if a bolt of plasma would kill a vamp as old as he was, but I was more than willing to try. And he knew it. With a sibilant sentence in his native tongue, Engström’s power faded. Confused yips and howls could be heard once more, and Declan rose, long body shuddering. “Sundown,” Engström said curtly, then vanished. Hot, pulsing air rippled over my back, the signature of a shifter’s transition. “Fiona,” gasped Declan. I didn’t turn—and not because of his nakedness. I didn’t want to see the hopeless expression on his face. “Look at me, sparky.” Squaring my shoulders, I faced him, pointedly focusing on his nose. “I didn’t have a choice, Declan.”

To my surprise, he nodded. “This is Connor’s fault. He misjudged the threat of the Conclave.” My eyes narrowed. “He left another note, didn’t he?” Declan winced. “Yes. He was worried Engström and the Conclave might try to get to you somehow once they realized he was gone. But mainly by sending a spy to infiltrate your inner circle. Not… this.” “Fabulous.” “I’ve read the history books, Fiona. The ones only vamps know about. The Conclave…” He dragged a hand over his face. “Fuck, the whole thing is medieval. They have a million laws, rituals. But the trial he was talking about? It’s theater. If you’re accused, you’re already dead.” “Reminds me of the Fae,” I noted with irony. Declan went on, “I’ll have to research a bit, but I think you’re allowed a companion. A witness, they call it. I can come with you. We’ll get you out of this somehow.” I shook my head. “I appreciate that, but you can’t. You’re the only member of the Western Triumvirate on this planet at the moment. Let’s not start a territory war or piss off the president.” Declan scowled. He knew I was right. “You’ll take my second, then. Caleb.” I swallowed the urge to snap at him. “I know you mean well, but I’m not taking orders from men right now. If someone’s coming with me, I’ll decide who.” I released a heavy breath, the air misting before my face. “I’m going back to the compound to shower. As soon as you confirm this witness stuff, let me know. And I’d appreciate you bringing the books, too. Guess it’s time to learn about the Conclave.” He nodded. “Fiona—I’m sorry.” I chuckled darkly. “You’re the last person who owes me an apology. And whatever Connor told you, it’s not your job to keep me safe. I hope you know that.”

To my relief, he smiled, though his eyes stayed grave. “I know, sparky. Unlike the Prime, this dog can learn new tricks.” The comparison was so apt, I felt the sting of it in my chest. Maybe—just like Morrighan—Connor was too old to change. Did it even matter, though? If Connor died in Maghmael, our bond ensured I died, too. And if I couldn’t find a way around the Conclave, we were goners. What a fucking mess.

7

Dreading giving an update to my dad and Mal about the new disaster in my lap, I took a detour on the way back to the Prime’s quarters. My route led me to the other side of the compound, where the mages were housed, and specifically to the warded training rooms. Adam told me that to keep himself busy the last few months, he’d worked on perfecting a private training room for my use. He’d relished the challenge of finding a way to neutralize the destructive power of my plasma—all despite not knowing if I was alive. We all handled stress differently. “I think you want that one,” said a soft voice behind me. “It’s spelled to open only for you.” I glanced back at the woman, standing some fifteen feet away, her figure sheathed in a green glow. She was pointing past me, to the last door on the right. “Oh, sorry,” she said, and her aura vanished. I blinked. “Thanks?” She smiled faintly. “The Omega taught us.” With a sudden heaviness in my heart, I realized that Adam had kept faith in me. In my return. Building the training room, teaching his mages to dampen their auras for me… against all evidence to the contrary, he’d believed I would come back to them. Then he’d tricked me and left me here. Damn Opal. I thanked the mage again and approached the training room. There was no

doorknob on the smooth wood, so I placed my palm on the surface. Nothing happened. “Great.” I glanced down the hallway, but the helpful mage was gone. I was very close to my breaking point. My skin was hot and itchy, my thoughts spiraling. Unlike the majority of the world, I needed a safe place to have an emotional breakdown. I needed to get inside this room. Pressing my forehead to the wood, I muttered, “Open the fucking door, Adam.” I fell through the door and landed hard on my knees inside the room. “Sonofabitch. Didn’t think to tell me it was voice-activated?” I could easily imagine Adam’s smug smile. Standing, I said, “Lights,” and a soft, ambient glow drifted from the walls— walls that were dark and glistening. I touched one, thinking I’d find rubber, but instead it was… “Stone?” I wondered aloud, running fingers over the slick surface. I summoned a tendril of plasma, allowing a spark to arc from my index finger to the wall. Whatever the mineral was, it absorbed electricity without effect. I spent a few minutes testing, sending larger and larger bolts at the walls, until I was confident he’d found a solution. This didn’t make up for leaving me behind, but I was still grateful. While I’d worked long and hard for control over my plasma, strong emotion was my Achilles’ heel. No matter how much training or how many trails I underwent, Water’s Eye had taught me that my power was linked to my heart. And right now, my heart was fucking pissed. Scared. Betrayed. And, if I was honest, more than a little broken. I unleashed it all on the training room, not caring if my screams were heard outside. Not really caring if the walls themselves held, or if I brought down the entire wing.

In the end, I didn’t feel better. But my mind was clearer. I left the training room the same way I came in, only flinching a little at the prospect of face-planting on the door. Thankfully, I ed through the barrier without incident. “You,” I said, pointing at a man emerging from a different training room. He was young, wreathed in a faint Amber aura. “Hi. I need a favor.” He blanched. “Y-yes?” “I need you to find the master vampires Charles and Eve—shit, I don’t know their last name. They’re twins. Scary. Know them?” His head bobbed. “Great. Please find them and tell them I need to see them ASAP. Before noon, if possible. If they give you shit, tell them I’m going on trial.” The man trembled visibly. “On t-trial?” “Yes. Got it?" His head jerked again. “Thank you.” I paused before walking away. “What’s your name?” “K-kirk.” “Thanks, Kirk. I really appreciate it.” He mumbled something, but I was already walking away. I’d feel bad later about ordering a stranger around like I was someone special. For the moment, I had bigger shit to deal with. Like figuring out how to not let a bunch of Ancient, Fae-hating vampires kill me. As I crossed the main hall toward the elevator, a familiar werewolf rushed toward me. “Tabby?” My happiness at seeing the chatterbox redhead back at the compound faltered when her smile only lasted a moment.

“Hey, sparky. It’s freaking good to see you, but we’ll have to catch up later.” She handed me a cell phone. “Declan sent me to give you this.” My mouth twisted in distaste. There was only one person it could be. I took the phone, nodding thanks to Tabby. “Hello, Delilah.” “Fiona. I need you to listen.” “What makes you think I care what you need?” “Then consider this about what Connor needs.” Dammit. “Fine, but I want some answers first. Where are you?” She paused. “Scotland.” “Why?” “I’m following a lead from the attempting bombing in Denver.” I blinked—this was the most she’d ever shared with me about her actual work. On the heels of that thought came Dr. Clark’s words from the party: We’ve narrowed it down to the UK. Had Delilah found the dickheads responsible for Denver? “The FBI sent you to Scotland?” I asked skeptically. She laughed dryly. “No. They fired me. Seems my insubordination wasn’t worth my help.” “Shocking. What’s in Scotland?” Another pause. “You can’t come here. Ever. Do you understand?” “You’re speaking English,” I said waspishly, “but since when do I do what you say?” She sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“So are you!” I snapped, then belatedly became aware of all the bystanders loitering in the hall pretending they weren’t listening to my conversation. I strode to the private elevator, yanked my keycard from a pocket in my leggings, and jammed it into the slot. Once I was safely inside and the elevator was rising, I continued, “You have something to tell me about Connor?” “I Saw that Connor would leave for Maghmael without you. You must feel very betrayed.” My fingers clenched on the phone. “And did it occur to you I might appreciate that information before being left behind?” Delilah sighed. “You still know so little about Sight. The future isn’t something to meddle with lightly.” The elevator doors opened. I paced down the hallway, blessedly empty. “You mean when it doesn’t suit you?” She ignored the jab. “Ian Kilpatrick called me this morning and told me what happened, that you’ve been summoned before the Conclave.” I barely blinked at the ission that she was still chummy with the Southern Prime. “Nice of him to not bother helping me.” “He can’t interfere with the directives of the Conclave, Fiona. What I need to tell you is this: while you know it’s become impossible for me to See your future, I did gain the impression that you should submit to this. There’s something… important for you in the Conclave. Or around it. A discovery of some kind. A key only you can find that will unlock a great treasure. I’m sorry, the vision wasn’t clear beyond that.” Man, this woman pushed my buttons just by existing. “And Ethan?” I ground out. “Did you See that Morrighan would imprison him, probably torture him or kill him? Is he making some meaningful personal discovery, too?” “No,” she whispered. “I didn’t See it, but nor can I say I would have tried to stop it. A Seer sits beside the loom of fate, Daughter. We aren’t the weaver.” I reiterated, “Except when it suits you.”

Her chuckle was void of humor. “I have only ever interfered with the future when it comes to you. To protect you. Guide you. And it’s brought me only pain.” “Then why do you keep doing it?” I demanded. “Because I love you,” she said quietly. “You’re my daughter. My child. I gave you to Frank to protect you, not because I didn’t love you.” The door to Connor’s library opened. My dad’s eyebrows lifted when he saw me. He mouthed, “You okay?” No, I wasn’t. But I said, “Yep.” “You see?” murmured my mother. “We would do anything to protect those we love.” “Bye, Delilah.” I hung up and pocketed the phone. My dad frowned. “What did she want?” I shook my head. “Nothing important. But I have some news you’re not going to like.”

Telling my dad about the Conclave went about as well as I expected. He yelled a lot. Mal’s reaction was only slightly better. They both wanted me to run and hide. Honestly, running didn’t sound so bad. The reality of facing an antiquated vampire council hadn’t hit me yet. Instead, it skirted around the edge of my mind like a monster waiting for the right time to strike. I knew it was there, salivating and stalking me, but for the moment I wasn’t paralyzed by fear. My other options were both obvious and impossible—I’d been given permission from both Lucian and my bio-dad, Manannán mac Lir, to summon them during emergencies. If I spoke either of their names three times, they could open a portal from their location to mine. On the one hand, the notion of interrupting whatever was going down in Maghmael was appealing to me, but more practically, I knew it could spell disaster for my so-called friends. Not to mention I didn’t even know if it was possible to by whatever Morrighan had done to close the Sidhe to travelers. And while summoning my father wasn’t totally off the table, there was a distinct gravity to it. One did not simply summon the Fae King of the Blood Court. That option was going in my back pocket for the moment before imminent death. Near the windows of Connor’s library, my dad and Mal were currently debating how to get me out of the compound without anyone noticing. Katrina and I sat on one of the leather sofas, books open in our laps. Turns out the tomes about the Conclave were in Connor’s library; Declan had merely pulled them from the shelves for us. “Here it is,” Kat said, finger on the tiny, swirling print. “But there’s not much. The witness ‘stands for the accused but may not defend.’ Whatever that means.” There was a brief knock on the library door before it opened on two vampires, slender as reeds, with pointed, almost Fae features and small, tight mouths. Charles and Eve nodded to me. “We are here.”

I think it was Charles who said it, but honestly it was hard to tell. Even their voices were similar. I never thought I’d be glad to see the creepy twins, but here I was. Connor trusted them, and more importantly, they’d proven themselves in the past. “Thank you for coming,” I told them. “I’m sorry for interrupting your day, but I really need your help.” “Yes, you do.” “Word has spread.” “The situation is grave.” “We will help you as much as we are able.” My brain frizzed for a few seconds—I didn’t them talking like they shared one brain. It was impossible to tell who was speaking and when. Even though they couldn’t read my thoughts because of my bond with Connor, I wasn’t great with controlling my facial muscles, which no doubt reflected my whatthefuck state of mind. “We have entered a new plateau of power.” “We apologize if it is disconcerting.” Kat whispered, “Whoa.” For the purpose of sanity, I decided they were now Chareve. “It’s fine. Thank you for coming. Can you tell me about the witness?” Chareve pointed at Katrina. “She read from the book. It is what it says. The witness stands for the accused before the Conclave. A proxy. Yes, a proxy.” Kat spoke up, “Wait, what? Where is the accused during the trial?” “Imprisoned. To protect the Conclave. Sometimes, already dead.” “Fuck,” I muttered.

At the nearby window, Mal placed a cautioning hand on my dad’s shoulder when his face reddened. “You will not be killed before trial,” said Chareve. “And how’s that?” I drawled. “You are the consort of Connor Thorne. It is”—Chareve exchanged a glance—“a title. Rank. You are allowed escorts. You will take us. And she will do well as the witness.” They pointed at Kat. “Alpha werelion. Rare indeed. Susceptible to Fae control but immune to vampiric influence.” I looked at her, wide-eyed. I’d been working up to asking her myself but wasn’t emotionally prepared. She smirked, eyes flashing momentarily gold. “Party time with the Conclave? Why not? It’s not like I have anything else going on.” “I love you,” I said emphatically. She rolled her eyes. “Good,” said Chareve. “We will leave now to meet with Daniel Engström. He will be angry that you are bringing us, which is good. Very good. We do not like him.” They left without saying goodbye. “That was weird,” my dad noted, “but I actually feel a little better knowing they’re going with you. You’re sure they’ll protect you?” I thought of Connor. Vamps ranked based on power, and Connor was a heavyweight. He was therefore afforded due respect from other vamps. But loyalty was something else, a bond far deeper than mere respect for power. Charles and Eve were loyal to Connor and had been for centuries. Whatever debt

they felt they owed him, they believed they could never repay it. “As best as they can, yes.”

8

Why is it that when you’re waiting for something exciting, time slows to a trickle, but when you’re waiting for the opposite, it flies by? Sundown came too fast. My goodbyes to my dad and uncle ed in a blink. Declan’s hug lasted a millisecond. Words were traded all around, but I heard not one of them. Before I knew it, Chareve, Katrina, and I were being ushered out of a car onto a tarmac where a private plane waited. Engström and a gaggle of goons were present, but Gabriella was not. I wasn’t bummed about that. She was feral, and she hated my guts. Engström had clearly decided that putting us in a metal tube for hours would be detrimental to one of us, if not all. “Good evening,” he greeted Chareve. They hissed at him. His expression hardened and he regarded me with flat eyes. “My plane has Opal wards, but there are rumors your particular affect”—the word was a sneer—“can pierce them. Can I be confident you won’t do anything stupid, like bring the plane down?” Fair point. Electricity surges plus delicate electrical components equaled bad times. But I was a long way past the days of killing phones and car engines. “If it were just the two of us flying, you might have a problem,” I said mildly, “but I’m not in the habit of risking my friends’ lives. Try not to piss me off and we’ll be fine.” Engström gave Katrina a dismissive glance. “Very well.” He turned toward the stairs leading up to the plane, then paused. “A word of advice, Miss Sullivan. You should make effort to cultivate your attitude of impertinence.” He smiled. “It will speed your demise.”

He disappeared into the plane. “What a dick,” whispered Katrina. “Move it,” snapped a goon. Chareve stared at the vampire until he blanched. Satisfied, the twins calmly walked up the stairs. Kat and I followed. “You’re sure your plasma won’t mess with the plane?” she murmured nervously. “Relatively sure. When I flew with Connor, there were no problems. And that was before Water’s Eye. But either way, this plane is full of vampires. I think we’ll be okay.” “Ah, they’ll absorb surges.” She stopped on the top step and gave me a pointed look. “This could go really bad. Are you sure we should be doing this? We can put them all down right now and get out of here.” She made a valid point. “I’ll tell you my thoughts when we’re in the air,” I told Kat, who didn’t look convinced but nevertheless turned and entered the plane. Engström was nowhere to be seen in the small but luxurious cabin. Maybe flying planes was his hobby. A goon ushered us to seats at the back of the plane, across from Chareve, then scurried back to the front where his three companions already sat. “They are afraid of you,” noted Chareve. I glanced at the vamps, sitting straight and still in their seats like beautiful, androgynous statues. I didn’t point out that they weren’t exactly fluffy bunnies, either, but instead nodded and buckled my seat belt. No sparks jumped when I touched the metal, as they would have in the past. I was plasma. Plasma was me. We were in balance. Maybe it wasn’t Sight at all that offered me a modicum of calm and purpose. Maybe it was simply that I finally understood who I was.

And I pitied my enemies.

Four hours into our flight to God-knew-where, I leaned toward Katrina. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t sleeping. Back when we worked side by side at my uncle’s pub in Los Angeles—a lifetime ago—she’d do this all the time. “Can I interrupt your cat-nap?” She nodded, sitting up and stretching. “Sure. What’s up?” “You worked the Lodestone case, right? After I, um…” “Almost exploded in Denver then vanished from the face of the earth?” “Yeah, that.” “I did.” “Why do you think Morrighan took Daphne before she was killed and drained like the other girls?” She paused. “Connor didn’t tell you.” I really hated those words. “No—what?” “Daphne has Fae blood on her mother’s side.” Understanding came in a flash. “Fuck.” Katrina nodded. “Our theory was that Morrighan became invested because she knew something we didn’t—that the Lodestone had other side effects beyond enhancing power.” “Like enhancement on a biological level.” “Exactly. I don’t know shit about Fae legends, but maybe the Lodestone was rumored to enhance fertility.”

It made so much sense. And if it was true, and Daphne was at Morrighan’s mercy all this time, what she’d endured was nearly impossible to think about. With Lucian’s help, I’d escaped the same fate. Guilt lay sour on my tongue. “They’ll get her out,” Kat assured me. I nodded, unable to voice my thoughts. They were too ugly. “Personally, I think that’s why she took Ethan. He figured it out, or knew something that could threaten her.” I ed the hallway in Marcus’ club and Ethan’s futile efforts to protect me from Morrighan. I ed, too, him hinting that he knew who was responsible for finding and developing the Lodestone drug. And the psychotic Thomas Newberry in his lab in Denver, telling me he didn’t work for the Liberati anymore, but a much purer cause. And Delilah… in Scotland. You can never come here. My head was beginning to hurt. “Just talk,” Kat suggested. “At the party, I spoke to Dr. Clark from the Celestine Institute. He said the project Valcourt and Newberry were working on was funded by someone overseas. Ethan also hinted that he knew who was responsible.” “That tracks. At least if we ascribe to the idea that the CIA doesn’t meddle at home.” “Right.” Kat’s expression cleared. “You think the Conclave might be behind it?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, from a political level it kind of makes sense. That blast—had it happened—would have destabilized the entire country. Plus,

they hate me because I’m Fae, so they wouldn’t have had any qualms about blowing me up. On the other hand, why would the Conclave care? It’s not like they’re their own country or anything. How would they benefit from a terrorist attack on the US?” “Maybe they don’t like the power the Primes have here and wanted to throw shade.” “Seems petty.” From across the aisle, Chareve said, “The Conclave is not involved. They care not for small human matters.” Kat muttered, “Who’s human anymore?” “No, they’re right,” I said. “If I’ve learned anything from Connor, it’s that ancient vamps think differently than we do. They haven’t been human for a long, long time. I highly doubt they give two shits about anything outside their creepy little world.” Katrina was silent for a moment. “Let me get this straight—what you’re telling me is that you’re humoring the Conclave right now, when really you just wanted to hitch a ride overseas so we can hunt for whoever Newberry was working for?” More guilt stabbed inside me as I made a conscious choice not to divulge what Delilah had told me or where she was. The reality was that as complex—and antagonistic—my feelings toward my mother were, she was a Seer. And she hadn’t mentioned death or outright danger, only that my time with the Conclave would lead to a discovery of some sort. I wasn’t willing to accept that she was motivated by anything as pure as love, but I did know she didn’t want me dead. I told Katrina, “Basically. I think. I’m still working it out.” Chareve chuckled. “You amuse us greatly, Fiona Sullivan.” Kat growled, “Yeah, I’m amused, too. Super funny.” I winced. “Sorry?”

She sighed. “Whatever. At least being around you is a surefire way to distract me from stuff I don’t want to think about.” “Thank you for trusting me.” “Always.” She leaned back, closing her eyes once more. After a few minutes of silence, she murmured, “A part of me thought they’d be back by now, that it would be a simple in-and-out. I kept expecting them to show up today.” I’d been doing my best not to think about it. Compartmentalizing was a skill I learned early in life and one that was cemented with my Ascension—one foot in front of the other, you keep moving forward no matter what. There’s no changing the past, no controlling the future. The only true power you have is over yourself in the now. But my survival skills were only useful to a point, and they weren’t without consequences. I probably needed a hundred years of therapy. “Maybe Lucian was wounded,” Kat offered morosely. “Maybe he can’t bring them back.” What she wasn’t saying but that I heard loud and clear was, maybe they’re all dead. Except for Connor. Because then I’d be dead, too. “Have you ever tried to open a portal?” “Definitely not. I don’t even know if changelings can access the Sidhes like that.” “Too bad,” she said, her voice fading as she slipped toward sleep. “Yeah, too bad,” I echoed.

9

I slept in fits and starts and woke for good to dawn outside the plane windows. Kat was still out beside me, her rhythmic, soft snoring sounding markedly like purring. My mouth tasted like trash. My neck hurt from being bent at an unnatural angle. And the dominant theme of my dreams had been running from death. “Ugh.” “You’re awake. We should talk. Preparation is necessary.” I rolled my eyes across the aisle, unsurprised to find Chareve in exactly the same position as they’d been however many hours ago. They watched me unblinking. “I don’t suppose there’s a meal or beverage service?” I asked groggily. Chareve remained expressionless. I reached for one of the bottles of water Kat had been smart enough to bring onboard with us. I guzzled half and felt marginally clearer. “What’s up?” “We have evaluated our memory of the Conclave and determined several possible outcomes.” I twisted in my seat, adjusting to relieve pressure on my tailbone. “And they are?” “Traditionally, the accused is held in a cell beneath ground while the witness stands as proxy. The elders will state their case and judgement by majority vote. Death or freedom.” “Wait—there’s no defense?”

“No.” I had no idea why I was surprised, but I was. A tingle of fear zoomed up my spine. “And the other possible outcomes?” “Because of your unique bond with Connor, the Conclave might be curious to speak with you directly. There’s a chance you’ll be able to plead your case.” Advocating for myself to a bunch of Fae-hating Ancients sounded like a doomed enterprise. It was likely I’d end up trying to kill them all and die in the process. Begging wasn’t a strong suit of mine. “Is there a third possibility?” Chareve nodded. “Once, many centuries ago, the Conclave gave an accused the option of performing a task for them in order to escape death.” I sat up straighter. “What kind of task?” They paused. “An impossible one.” I slumped back. “Of course it was.” “You have completed impossible tasks before, Fiona Sullivan.” “I appreciate your faith in me,” I grumbled. The window shade in the row ahead of ours was open a few inches. Outside, the sky was a cherub’s dream—fluffy pink and white clouds on a base of rich blue. “Where are we going, anyway?” “You truly don’t know?” I glanced at Chareve. “I didn’t read that far.” The twins’ dark eyes drifted in unison to the window past me. Although they’d been daywalkers since Ascension, I thought I saw awe in their gazes. After living for centuries in the dark, dawn hadn’t lost its magic in a mere decade and a half. “The seat of the Conclave is beneath the Vatican.”

“Isn’t that quaint,” grumbled Kat as she awakened. A soft crackle around us preceded Engström’s snobby voice, “We’re beginning our descent.” Nerves trilled in my fingertips. Kat lifted the shade on her window, squinting into the sunlight. “Stupid question —how much danger are we really in?” “Minimal,” Chareve said. “Initially, at least. But you should not worry. We’re confident no harm will come to either of you.” Kat turned to me, brows raised at the mixed messaging. My stomach tightened. I had a bad feeling about why Chareve was optimistic. I looked at the twins. “You think he’ll come.” They nodded serenely. Connor. Did I agree with them? Was that why I had recklessly jumped feet first into this fiasco? Because somewhere inside me was a belief that Connor would save me? Fuck. For the first time since he left, I focused with intent on the compagno bond. There was nothing. Emptiness. Darkness. We were worlds apart. Kat cleared her throat. “Let’s stretch and pee before we land.” She gave me a little shove, jolting me back into the present. We traded off using the small lavatory. When we returned to our seats, Kat pushed a protein bar at me, reminding me that low blood sugar affected my control of plasma. She tore through four of them herself, as well as three specially formulated meat sticks—her werelion metabolism demanded it. Thirty minutes later, the plane touched down. Engström and his bodyguards

ushered us down the stairs and toward a lifted limo that resembled a tank, huge and black with mirrored windows. “Expecting an attack?” I asked cheerily. Engström didn’t bother with a reply, climbing into the enger seat. The rest of us piled into the back. Katrina ended up between two vamps, facing backward behind the driver, while I sat by a window next to Chareve. If there was conversation during the drive, I didn’t hear it. My stomach was in knots. All I could think about as Rome ed outside my window was that four people I cared about were facing Morrighan. Or had already faced her. Wouldn’t Lucian bring everyone back the same day they left? He hadn’t. And there were only two logical reasons why: he was injured or dead. A new swell of anger hit me, made vicious with injured pride. I’d been betrayed. Deemed unneeded and left behind. But they made the wrong choice. I should be there. I was stoirm a rugadh, the daughter of Manannán mac Lir, Fae King; I was fucking powerful. And they were failing without me. One of the vamps in the car hissed. The other stared at me in mute shock. “You’re glowing,” Kat said. I sank into my seat and closed my eyes, trying to relax. I thought about Water’s Eye and my time there. Ignoring the almost-drowning portion of my experience, it was the closest I’d ever come to peace within myself. When the limo finally stopped, I was still angry, but I wasn’t glowing anymore.

10

Chareve hadn’t lied—after a journey down a damp, narrow tunnel, I was unceremoniously shoved into a lightless, stone-walled room that could easily double as a set for a horror movie. I didn’t hear any creepy crawlers around me, but I imagined them easily enough. “Don’t worry,” Kat whispered through the tiny bars on the thick wood door. “We’ll figure this out.” Half of her face was visible, tinged blue in the magelight from a nearby sconce. “I know,” I lied. “Push for the task. Tell Chareve.” “We heard,” they said from behind Kat. “Let’s go,” snapped a goon. “Hang in there,” murmured my friend. I nodded. Footsteps receded, the small light outside went out, and I was alone. Darkness pressed against me. My skin crawled at the possibility of something in here with me. Something wet, or squishy, or bitey—I may have been hard to kill, but I’d still watched too many scary movies as a kid. Summoning the barest amount of plasma, just enough to coat my palms, I lifted my hands and surveyed my cell. The room was roughly circular. The bricks uniform and dense. No spells to prevent tampering, which meant the Conclave wasn’t worried about escape. Likely because if I tried to blast my way out, I’d be crushed by the weight of the stone above me. The space was surprisingly free of cobwebs or signs of rodent residents. Maybe the Conclave’s bad juju kept them away. There was a hole in one corner that wrinkled my nose; I couldn’t smell it, but nevertheless decided not to venture closer.

With a sigh, I sat against the door. I wasn’t going through it anytime soon, but its presence was reassuring. There was a way out, even if I couldn’t use it at the moment. I let my plasma fade. Darkness fell like a sheet, then slowly brightened as my eyes adjusted as much as they could. Which wasn’t remotely enough to comfort me. The Midwestern Prime had told me that if I continued to imbibe Connor’s blood, my five senses would benefit, not to mention abilities like speed and reflexes. I’d balked at the idea. Now I’d sign on the dotted line if it meant I could see in the dark, if it meant I’d be that much stronger, that much more capable of facing Morrighan. My mind wandered, skipping from thought to thought, each compounding the ripple from the epicenter of my anxiety: Morrighan. I was certain that my ongoing dream-memories of Eleana’s life had been implanted by the queen during my month with her. Manannán mac Lir’s assessment had been clear enough: I wasn’t his granddaughter, and my uncanny resemblance to Eleana was merely a trick of genetics. My memories of her life, then, were psychological warfare curated by the queen for the purpose of softening me to her cause. She really was deluded if she still didn’t understand that her granddaughter had loathed her. Run from her. Abhorred everything she stood for. I thought of my second visit to Maghmael, after Morrighan had kidnapped me from under Connor’s nose, and Lucian had busted me out of the palace after refusing to rape me. Absolute madness—that’s what Morrighan embodied. Sight shivered through me. Not in anything as precise as thoughts or words, but in an encoming sense of dread. I needed to get out of here.

I paced my cell, my fingernails scraping at mortar, searching for stones that moved. Weak spots. A draft. Anything. “Don’t bother,” said a female voice, disembodied, sounding both far away and close enough to reach. “These cells have held prisoners far more powerful than you, whoever you are.” I froze. Someone was down here with me. “Who are you? Another prisoner?” “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be gone soon enough.” “How long have you been here?” I winced as soon as I asked—it wasn’t like there was a clock or calendar on the wall. A raspy chuckle. “Long enough to have forgotten the answer to that question. Weeks. Decades. An eon, perhaps.” I moved carefully toward the voice, finding the wall I thought she was nearest. “Are you a vampire?” “I don’t know.” “What? How do you not know?” Her voice rasped softly, “I … apples, red and ripe. The sound of bird wings. That is all.” There were a thousand more questions I could ask her, but none came to my lips. Instead, I lowered to the floor and sat cross-legged, my back to the wall I thought we shared. Eventually she spoke again. “I think it has been a long time since I had company in the dark. What is your name?” “Fiona.” “Ah. A good name.” She paused, long enough that I wondered if I’d hallucinated her. Then: “You are… a descendant.” There was surprise in her voice and

something like confusion. A descendant? My name was Irish in origin, and some form of it had been present in the British Isles for centuries. I was starting to think I knew exactly what she was. Immortal. An enemy to the Conclave. “Do you magic?” I asked, then added quickly, “Did your people have power over the elements? Fire, water, earth, and air? Or affinity with plants? Healing?” “I don’t know.” But she sounded uncertain, which only made me more certain that she was Fae. “My father is Manannán mac Lir. I’m Fae stoirm a rugadh, or stormborn. My power is lóstre. I’m a halfling—my mother is human.” Well, sort of human. “I know what you’re doing, child, but it won’t work. Others have tried. I nothing. I don’t know what I am.” “Don’t you want to ? I can keep talking, asking questions. Maybe something will trigger your memory.” Her voice sharpened. “Why should I want to what I have lost?” “There’s always hope,” I tried. “Always a chance things will change.” Raspy chuckle again. “You are young.” I switched tracks. “Do they feed you? Us?” I wasn’t hungry yet, but the granola bar from the plane wasn’t going to sustain me long. “Sometimes. Enough food and water to live but not to quench.” Great. “And there’s no one else down here?” “Can’t your great powers tell you that?”

They could, in fact—specifically the branch of my powers I most often chose to ignore because they came from my mother. Sighing, I closed my eyes. It wasn’t so much a summoning, as with plasma, but rather a step sideways into the part of my mind responsible for perceiving supernatural auras. What I saw/sensed when I focused on my prison-mate caused my head to jerk back and slam against the wall. My vision went white, then black. I groaned, gingerly touching the area of , feeling for blood, finding a small knot. “Whatever that was, it felt… interesting.” Interesting was one way to put it. “We’re alone,” I managed, still trying to catch my breath. Blinding. Her aura was blinding light and screaming magic. A maelstrom. Chaos so pure it sang of instant death and exploding life. Birth, death, birth, death. All tangled up with power so vast it was like staring into the sun. I’d never met anyone—Morrighan included—with power like this. What the actual fuck was she? And how had the Conclave captured her in the first place? And more importantly, why had she not merely walked out of her cell, leaving dead bodies in her wake? Her power was beyond the scope of what was known to exist on earth. However old the vampires of the Conclave were, they’d be no match for her. “You are afraid,” she said softly. “Yes.” I had no doubt she’d know if I lied. “Your power is… unique.” “Unique. I like that. Perhaps I am one of a kind?” “Undoubtedly.” “And you are, as well? One of a kind?”

I swallowed. “Pretty sure, yes.” “Then we will be friends. For as long as you are here.” I shuddered, pulling my knees to my chest. “Sounds good.” She laughed, the sound low and melodic and absolutely terrifying.

11

When I could no longer stand the darkness pressing against me, I summoned plasma again. Still real. Still here. Time ed. Hours. Days. I had no idea. The sensory deprivation was its own torture. What my jailers didn’t know was that I’d spent years in a small basement with rubber mats covering the walls and windows. My wild magic had fried lightbulbs, and while Uncle Mal occasionally brought me light via spells, those spells never lasted that long. Without that experience, I have no doubt I’d be losing my shit. Oh, I’d still go nuts down here at some point. Supernatural or not, humans weren’t meant to be kept in the dark. I nodded off a few times, waking when my head dropped against my shoulder. Finally I shifted to the ground, curling on one side with my back to the door. Sleep took me fast. And I dreamed.

When I opened my eyes in domhan, the shared dream, relief took me to my knees. It was the beach—our beach. A place that didn’t exist anymore, with delicate white sands broken by outcroppings of rock, and a roiling whitecapped sea opposite green hills that lifted toward snow-capped mountains. I spun around, searching, and at first didn’t see him. Then I ran. “Connor!” He was lying on his side behind low rocks, his body mostly in the sand, his back against jagged stone. I stumbled and fell to my knees beside his head. “Connor! Connor?” He groaned softly. For the moment, I put aside how pissed I was at him and gently drew back the hair over his face. It had grown, which meant more time had ed for him than me. Damn the Sidhes. “Talk to me, Connor. What happened? Where are you?” A line appeared between his brows. His eyelashes flickered. “Fiona?” he rasped through cracked lips. “Yes, yes, open your eyes.” He did, and I almost leapt back at their color. Starry night. Flashes of lightning playing in black storms. Slowly, so slowly, green bled into the black. He winced as he tried to raise his head, then hissed in pain. Panic was hammering at my mind. Something was very, very wrong. “Don’t move if it hurts,” I said, my voice high and tight. His gaze unfocused. “Adam,” he whispered.

My heart dropped. “Is he alive?” “I don’t know. Morrighan took him. I couldn’t stop her.” “Marcus and Lucian? Ethan?” His eyes closed for a long moment, then opened with effort. “I don’t know.” “Where are you? Are you safe?” He gave the barest nod. “Underground. Her beasts hunt above.” I’d seen Morrighan’s hounds firsthand. Been chased by them. Unnatural, doglike creatures that flickered in and out of sight, moving on too many legs, then none at all. Mottled dark fur and hairless red skin. Eyes that alternately smoldered like embers and shone mirror bright. If Hell existed, that’s where they’d been weaned. Connor was regaining consciousness fast, his eyes clearing until he looked at me —really seeing me—for the first time. Through the compagno bond, his mind barreled into mine like a velvet-coated fist. I jerked. “Take it easy.” Horror overtook his features. He whispered, “No. Fiona, no. Tell me it’s not true.” Anger made my voice cutting, “I’ll handle it, dammit. Now tell me what you know.” I had to give him credit—his attitude shifted fast as he tucked away his worry for me. “It’s easier if I show you.” His mind opened, baring all they’d been through in Maghmael. Morrighan must have known, or suspected, that we’d ask the Master of Storms for help. Mere moments after they arrived, the hounds had descended. Ten… no, twenty… over fifty of them. They spilled forth in a writhing pack, their howls

and snarls deafening. I saw Connor expelling great bursts of power, his shadow-wings vast. I saw Adam’s milky eyes turn brown and helpless as his magic slid away from the beasts without effect, then wail in agony as teeth found purchase on his arm. Marcus lifted his hands and Adam was wrapped in shadows. The hound’s jaw closed on air; Marcus dragged Adam back. The men retreated further. Lucian’s plasma arched toward pillars and walls, bringing down great blocks of stone between them and the beasts. The hounds fought through the debris to reach them. They ran, seeking an exit, but the palace had become a nightmarish funhouse of Morrighan’s creation. Hallways contracted and changed direction, craters opened in the floors, walls formed over windows or fell inward. There were moments of reprieve. Dark rooms where they panted, assessed for injuries, planned and argued and rallied. In one, they found Daphne—or what was left of her. A sack of flesh and a nearby pile of bones with missing marrow. No Ethan. No other Fae. No escape. Hour by hour, their strengths and spirits waned. Adam’s arm was useless. Marcus’ face was streaked with blood. Lucian limped. Connor was gaunt, needing blood but unwilling to take it from his companions. Their final stand was made in a circular courtyard of smooth, luminous gray stone. Lucian and Connor stood shoulder to shoulder, the others behind them. As hounds surged through adjacent archways, the air sucked backward unnaturally, forming a cyclone around the two men. Plasma and starry darkness. Lucian screamed, “Now!” and their combined powers released. The northern face of the palace blew outward, tons and tons of rock gone in an instant, the air misted red from hounds caught in the blast. A cloudless blue sky arched overhead, and past the rubble lay the crisp green landscape of the Sidhe —where Fae streamed by the hundreds toward the forests. More hounds danced like bloody shadows among them, sowing terror, picking them off one by one. Screams rent the air. At long last Morrighan appeared, walking above the rubble. Clothed in white,

wreathed in light, she smiled as she approached the men. Connor collapsed, paralyzed. Lucian and Marcus screamed. And Adam… expressionless, he walked toward the queen’s outstretched arms. Connor’s memories fractured. I saw more flashes—the men battling hounds separately, him running, stumbling toward the forest. Then I was back in my own mind. I threw up on the sand. Or, given that I was dreaming, my psyche vomited, which was somehow more painful. “So she was after the Lodestone,” I said finally, struggling to process what had happened to Daphne, the young changeling who’d been dosed with undiluted lodestone by Dr. Newberry. I wished I could bring that creepy fuck back to life so I could kill him again. Perhaps Morrighan had discovered that Daphne was infertile, or maybe breeding her had never been a goal as we’d thought. Either way, in the end she’d extracted what remained of pure Lodestone from Daphne’s marrow, leaving behind… Well, I’d see it in my nightmares for the rest of my life. “Yes,” Connor said thinly. “She dosed herself with it. I’ve never seen… it was like the Sidhe itself obeyed her. The whole world felt corrupt. Wrong. Lucian tried over and over to open a portal, but he couldn’t. Your father’s diamond was lost in the fight. There was nothing we could do but run.” I’d been injected with pure Lodestone by Dr. Newberry and had almost blown up Colorado. Morrighan’s magic was vast. Now? She was a god. “It will fade, though. Right?” I clung to the thread of hope. “She’ll metabolize the drug.”

“She has Adam. Possibly Ethan, too, if he’s still alive.” As the highest level of magic practitioners, Adam and Ethan could activate spells with a thought. Newberry had been a cipher, with no magic of his own, and he’d found a way to produce synthetic Lodestone. The Opals would be able to replicate the original. And I’d seen it myself, the way Adam had walked toward her, robbed of will. They’d do her bidding whether they wanted to or not. I felt cold. So cold. “She’s unstoppable,” I whispered. “I tried, Fiona. We tried.” I focused on him. “What happens if you take my blood here in domhan?” He shook his head. “No. You need every drop of strength. The Conclave—” “I said I’m handling it,” I snapped. Pain flickered in his eyes. “I’m sorry for the deception, but I won’t apologize for leaving you behind. The hounds roam freely and the Sidhe itself is collapsing, the Mists encroaching further and further. I don’t know how much longer it will be until the realm vanishes beneath them.” I swayed. No one—nothing—went into the Mists and returned. “You said you were underground…” My eyes narrowed with understanding. And revulsion. “You made yourself a grave.” “Yes, mo spréach. I will sustain as long as I can. There’s a chance the Mists will cover this place before the hounds find me. Perhaps then, the compagno bond will not break.” What he meant was I wouldn’t die with him, because he wouldn’t actually die. Eventually, he’d sink into stasis, a kind of prolonged sleep for vampires. He’d be alive, but dead in every way that counted. And trapped beneath the Mists forever.

Could I have even helped if I’d gone with them? Doubtful. In fact, it might have been worse. Connor would have been distracted with protecting me. Marcus, too. I pushed those thoughts aside. “Where will Morrighan go?” Even as I asked, I knew. She wouldn’t dare challenge my father, Manannán mac Lir, not without absolute certainty of her victory. That left two options. The first was Earth, which was unlikely. No matter how powerful she was or how much destruction she could rain down, we had numbers on our side. And there was nothing quite as unifying as an alien invasion. Her other choice was the Northern Sidhe—Tír na Nóg. Former capital of the Fae. The last seat of the High King Finvar and High Queen Aine before they’d vanished. Called the Dark or Shadow Court because the sun hadn’t risen since Finvar’s and Aine’s disappearance. More pieces of the puzzle shifted into place. The picture was far bigger than I’d imagined. And far scarier. Beware the water. Blood moss. Branches of hope. A tree weeping blood. Accept the blood bond. Death all around. Blood beckons. And finally, my father’s story from Water’s Eye:

The veins of Yggdrasil that lift above land are thick with moss, red as blood on snow. It is said that long ago, the moss was verdant green and blue, reflecting

the beloved leaves and sky above… Once, Yggdrasil’s roots bridged the Sidhe and the earthly plane. We walked among men, shared bread and hearth. We warred and loved and awakened the magic in their bloods. As all things must change, and die, so, too, did our peace with mankind. They learned fear and hatred, envy and spite. As did we. And so Yggdrasil wept blood that stained her feet and withdrew her roots from both our worlds, taking shelter in Tír na Nóg Beyond, where no fear may ever touch her.

Morrighan was going to Tír na Nóg. She’d been there, too, when the High King and Queen had vanished. Among others, she’d searched for them and failed. And the Mists had arisen, swallowing land and Fae, separating the one Sidhe into three. Finvar and Aine. Lost. Just like Yggdrasil, the fabled Tree of Life. Why had Manannán mac Lir told me that story? Was it because he knew or suspected it would matter in the future? I had a sudden premonition—not Sight, just my analyzing brain—that whatever Morrighan’s greater scheme entailed, Yggdrasil played a crucial role. What if Finvar and Aine had set out to find the tree and failed? What if Morrighan thought she could find it—or knew she could—and with the Lodestone inside her, believed she could bring the tree back from Tír na Nóg Beyond, whatever or wherever that was. Morrighan hated humanity and believed Earth was the rightful home of the Fae. She’d told Eleana as much, and her actions ed it. What would happen if this magical tree was forced to regrow pathways between the Fae realm and Earth, those that had dissolved when humans rejected magic? And what would Morrighan bring across those pathways in order to reclaim our world? My heart ached. Helplessness rose, and with it, fury.

“I’m going to get you all out of there,” I told Connor, and before he could protest, I shoved my wrist against his mouth. “Drink.” He tried moving his head away. Black clouds raced overhead, swirling and ominous. Lightning flashed in the center of the emotional storm. Thunder boomed, rattling my teeth. “You. Will. Drink.” My voice was unnaturally resonant—an extension of the storm. Starry eyes found mine, full of shock. His voice hissed in my mind. You would order me to obey you, princesa? As master to slave? My rage bled away. The storm above us dissipated, dark clouds thinning. “Connor,” I whispered. “Please. For me.” Fangs pierced my wrist. I woke up.

12

Panting in the dark, I tried to get my bearings. It was a few minutes before I realized my wrist ached, before I ed why and found the two small puncture marks and tender skin. At least he’d drunk, though I didn’t know how much. Covering my face with my hands, I fought off a sob. Connor was in serious shit. So was I. So were my friends, if they were still alive. And so was everyone in Morrighan’s path until she was stopped. Eventually, I became aware of sounds, specifically from my fellow prisoner. She was singing. It was wordless. Haunting. Sorrowful. “Can you stop? Please?” She stopped. My own harsh breathing filled my ears. “He called you princesa.” I jerked. “How do you know that?” “Dreams and dreams, child. You led me beyond, to the in-between. I saw the tree with apples. I felt the fresh wind of memory.” I decided she was as crazy as Morrighan. “You’re upset the dream ended. You fed him willingly? I did not know. I apologize.” I was fully awake now. “Apologize for what?” I asked carefully. “I broke the shared dream. I… ed pain and betrayal. I heard her name and thought he was hers.”

My frustration spiked. “I don’t understand,” I snapped. “How did you break domhan? And what do you mean by ‘he was hers’?” Then, an airy whisper: “Morrighan. Her name is the key. Unlocked and now free.” Goose bumps spread across my skin as Delilah’s vision unfolded. A key only you can find that will unlock a great treasure. Who was this woman? She continued, “Stars and Moon, long and more, back and fore. The hounds, my beautiful children. What has she done to you? On the last night of a thousand, she took from me that which was mine, mine, mine. Death’s touch, birth’s rending. I . Sickle and scythe, we reap what we sow. Time, time, time to return.” Until I bit my tongue, I hadn’t realized I’d been violently shaking. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I tucked my head down and fought to breathe evenly. Whoever was down here with me, she wasn’t just Fae. She was First Legacy. Or even older. Fae before they were Fae. Was there even such a thing? Soft fingers tapped my shoulder. My head jerked up and I screamed. The sound was muted almost instantly, though I continued to feel the strain in my vocal cords. There was light in my cell now. Golden and soft, coming from the body of the woman—was she a woman?—before me. She was tiny. Maybe four feet, probably less. Matted dark hair hung around her like a cloak. Her naked body was nut-brown, vaguely female, with the suggestion of breasts and hips, and her bottom half was obscured by odd shadows that covered her legs. Her face was beautiful in a way that hurt—alien and captivating. “Hello, little sister.” She smiled, displaying a row of small, neat teeth and two fangs that were far longer and thicker than Connor’s. I pushed against the wall behind me and felt plasma rising. Currents raised down my arms. “Stay back,” I rasped. “Don’t be afraid.” Dark, too-large eyes watched the snakes of electricity under

my skin. “Ah, that is what you meant. Stoirm a rugadh. We called it something else. I can’t . The language is forgotten, anyway, melted by time and new words. You may call me Sickle.” “S-sickle,” I repeated. “Who are you?” She shrugged. “Who are you? Are you more or less than the gifts you bear? I am All and None, Time and Dawn and Dusk. They”—she glanced upward—“are nothing. Perhaps you, too, are nothing.” My head hurt. I stared at her, annoyed and unwilling to ask for clarification. Her eyes roamed the cell. Every once in a while, I glimpsed an odd sheen. Like cats’ eyes in the dark. “Sickle and Scythe,” she said, focusing back on me. “You called Morrighan something. First… Legacy?” It’d been a while—since the compagno bond—that my thoughts had been so readily dissected. I didn’t like it before, and I didn’t like it now. “Yes,” I answered. “There are only a few left. She’s, uh… very old and powerful.” Sickle smiled again; a rictus of savagery. My skin crawled. “She owes me a great debt. She stole what did not belong to her. She put me here and gave them the means to keep me.” What the fuck? The seams on my mind were stretching to the breaking point. How long had she been a prisoner of the Conclave? A thousand years? Two thousand? Five thousand? I choked on a million questions and finally managed, “What did she steal?” Sickle’s head titled suddenly. “It is not time yet.” She looked at me. “I owe you a boon, little sister, for breaking my bondage.” She stepped or floated toward me and tapped the center of my forehead. I tried not to flinch, but it was useless. I touched the spot; it felt warm. Sickle only smiled, this time soft and benevolent. “We were never meant to stay,” she said, an eternity of sorrow in her voice. “I

would have faded, too. Should have. I belong with my kind.” “Your kind?” I asked, hoping for something solid. Her body and light began to fade, until all that was left were her too-big, glistening eyes. “We are All and None. Children of the Tree, Sky, and Stars. We were born from magic. We are magic. Guard the gift, little sister. You’ll need it.” “What gi—” “Shhh. They’re coming for you.” Her eyes blinked out at the same time I heard footsteps in the tunnel. I reached out mentally, hoping for Katrina’s pulse or Chareve’s distinctive aura, but instead I found the icy blasts of four unfamiliar vampires. “Shit.” I scrambled to the back wall. Keys rattled. The door swung inward. “Fiona Sullivan, you’ve been summoned.” I couldn’t make out the speaker’s features, only his height and build—he was a brick house. And his power set my teeth on edge. So did his voice, which was completely absent of inflection. I pushed words past a frozen tongue. “Am I being executed?” “You’re being granted the rare honor of an audience with the Prefect. Put these on and come peacefully.” I didn’t bother asking Or What as he tossed a pair of gloves at my feet. “Where’d you get these?” “Put them on.” At first glance, the gloves appeared to be the same as the ones Ethan had once made for me, but when I picked them up I noticed the differences. These were thicker, the material not nearly as soft, and the design lacked Ethan’s attention to detail. A quick summoning of plasma, however, revealed a familiar white sheen

around them. Great. The Conclave had an Opal on their payroll, one who’d clearly seen some news footage of me in gloves last year and figured out how to replicate Ethan’s spell. Which also told me the Conclave had been planning this for a while. I tugged on the gloves, my mouth twisting as the spell slithered up my arms. As long as I wore them, I couldn’t summon plasma. Despite knowing that if the situation turned dire I could call for Manannán mac Lir, I wasn’t feeling good about this. At all. My forehead itched where Sickle had touched me. I resisted rubbing the spot. If shit hit the fan, I hoped her so-called gift was of the life-saving variety. “You sure I’m not getting my head chopped off?” I asked, my voice a little high. The vampire ignored me and stepped away from the door. “Move.”

13

Steeling myself, I walked outside my cell to find three more vampires waiting for me. “Stop.” I did. A sour-faced woman grabbed my wrists and secured them with a zip tie. When she stepped back, expression relaxing, I realized she’d been scared to touch me. I stared into her relieved eyes until a hood descended roughly onto my head. “Well, this is unpleasant,” I muttered, blowing the thick, scratchy fabric away from my face. Someone pushed me forward. I tripped and would have fallen if another vampire hadn’t shoved me back. “A simple ‘please move forward’ would’ve sufficed,” I muttered. “It’s hard to walk when you’re blind and your hands are tied.” “Shut up,” growled the vampire behind me. We began walking, our path curving upward, my steps guided by ungentle nudges. “Why do you all hate Fae so much? I like vampires. Hell, I’m in love with one. You guys know Connor Thorne? Badass Celtic dude? He won’t tell me how old he really is, but I think he might have known Jesus. Not, like, personally, but you know what I mean.” “We should have gagged her,” muttered the woman. I laughed shrilly. “I talk when I’m nervous. Any chance I can get a snack? Pretty starving.” No one answered.

A door opened with a creak of wood. I had a sense of expanding space as we left the tunnel, and additional vampire auras battered me. More walking. More doors. Finally, I heard raised voices and recognized one. “Katrina!” “Fiona! Get that hood off her, assholes!” Her voice moved closer. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” “I’m good. They’ve been super nice.” Kat snorted. Chareve said imperiously, “We will take her from here.” There was a silent pissing contest that included enough icy aura explosions to numb my toes, then my ring of bodyguards vanished. The hood was tugged up and off. I blinked at Chareve. “Hi.” They frowned. “The Conclave’s Prefect, Xavier, has requested to meet you. We don’t know why. Please be circumspect and respectful.” I glanced at Katrina, taking in her hopeless expression. “I take it we haven’t made much progress?” “No,” answered the twins. “They voted against asg you a task to earn your freedom. The vote to determine your fate is later today.” My heart pitter-pattered. “Ahh. Okay. Be nice to the bossman. Are you sure he isn’t going to kill me right now?” “Very sure.” They frowned. “Nevertheless, be careful with your words.” I nodded several times. “I’ll be nice. Sorry. I’m just dehydrated, starving, et cetera. Plus, the weirdest thing happened. There’s a—” My forehead burned, hot and bright, like I’d been stung by a wasp. I gasped. “Nothing, never mind.” The sting faded. “What’s wrong?” asked Kat worriedly.

“Headache,” I lied. Chareve looked over my head. “It’s time.” Turning, I saw a pair of dark doors opening, revealing a surprisingly elegant study. Very educated vampire lair. No windows, of course, but the stone was softened by rugs, bookshelves, tapestries, and art. Two figures wearing red cloaks took up position on either side of the doors. They held huge spears tipped with silver, which they crossed over the entrance, and their faces were obscured by black masks with grotesque features. My stomach tried to eject itself. “Breathe,” whispered Chareve as they guided me forward. I glanced back at Katrina and wished I hadn’t—she couldn’t hide her fear. “ Connor,” Chareve continued mutedly. “Think of him, his life, before you act or speak rashly.” I nodded spastically. “Pride before the fall and such. Got it.” We stopped just outside the doors. Too freaking close to the monster-faced guards. “We believe in you, Fiona.” Having dropped those loaded words, Chareve walked away. I stood before the guards, shaking like a leaf, trying not to hyperventilate, and too afraid to ask what I was supposed to do, when a voice from inside the room said, “Enter.” The spears lifted. I made my way into the room, walking carefully, certain that falling on my face wouldn’t earn me points. When I’d gone ten feet or so, my right side went numb with cold. Turning, I saw the room extended into an alcove housing a massive stone desk. Behind the desk was a giant, colorful tapestry depicting war between vampires and the Fae. And it was glaringly obvious who was winning. Staring at the immaculately detailed, ghastly piles of Fae bodies, whatever hope I had left for charming my way out of this mess died. Standing behind the desk—which I belatedly realized was a sarcophagus—was a

short, stocky man with a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were dark and inquisitive, his hands clasped casually at his waist. Behind him and to the left stood a tall, elegant woman with radiant dark skin stretched over phenomenal bone structure. They both wore floor-length cloaks—black and hemmed in gold. “Welcome, Fiona. My name is Xavier.” He gestured to the woman. “This is Maia.” “Nice to meet you both,” I lied. Xavier smiled and his mask of civility slipped. In his eyes I glimpsed his mind— cunning, power-hungry, and morally void. He looked at me like I was a prey animal already trapped, whose death he’d greatly enjoy. I glanced at the woman, instinctively seeking an ally, but her face was blank, her eyes flat and dark. Shitshitshit. “Please, have a seat.” With no other options, I skirted around a high-backed chair and perched on the edge, wedging my zip-tied hands between my knees. Xavier stayed standing, which wasn’t a surprise. He struck me as the type that preferred to look down on people. Also, he was eternally short. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.” “Sure.” “Is it true you’ve struck Connor Thorne with lightning?” My heart sank. “Yes, but—” “Is it true you’ve visited your birthfather in one of the Fae’s unnatural Sidhes?” I gritted my teeth. “Yes.” Smiling slightly, he tapped a paper on his desk. “And is it true you once threatened a vampire with, and I quote, ‘Next time I’ll just hang on until you turn crispy.’?”

Unbelievable. Connor’s ex-girlfriends were another level of catty. “She’d just tried to claw my face off,” I snapped. “And you gave her severe burns.” “Which she healed from almost immediately!” I sat back, shaking my head. “The only thing I actually hurt was her pride. I’ve never killed a vampire.” Xavier’s aura blasted me. The tip of my nose went numb—I sneezed. The woman gasped. I had no idea why until Xavier said, “Do you see, Maia? She is immune to glamour. Our worst assumptions were correct. She’s bound Connor Thorne to her. That is why he fell into stasis during her long absence.” He pinned me with dark eyes. “Perhaps you misjudged the timing of your return and meant to stay in the Sidhe until he was dead.” “No, of course I—” “As it was, three of his nest succumbed to final death before you returned. You have killed us, Fiona Sullivan. And worse, you’ve enslaved an Ancient.” I jolted to my feet, my gloves spitting Opal magic to combat my growing charge. “Enslave Connor Thorne, really? You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, and if he were here, he’d turn you into smears on the wall. Let me ask you a question! Why do you hate the Fae so much that you’d fabricate reasons to kill me? Who am I? No one! I’ve never hurt you, never gone out of my way to target a vampire. I couldn’t care less about your Conclave or this farce of a trial!” I fell silent, panting, hating myself for my stupid temper and how easily he’d gotten a rise out of me. Xavier only smiled, knowing he’d won. “And where is Thorne now? If you’re so important to him, why has he not appeared at your defense?” I bit my lips; he only smiled. “I think you cannot answer because it would incriminate you. He’s escaped you at last, hasn’t he? And luckily for him, we were waiting for this opportunity to aid our fellow.” He looked past me and nodded. The masked guards appeared at my sides. They grabbed my arms, pulling me away from the desk.

“Wait—wait!” I twisted my head toward Xavier. “If what you say is true, and I’m bound to Connor, has it occurred to you that he might die if you kill me?” The Prefect of the Conclave shrugged. “A necessary sacrifice for the greater good of our species.” There was something in his tone… I glanced at the other vamp, whose eyes were alive now and full of rage—rage focused not at me, but at Xavier. “Ah-ha!” I yelled, fighting the forward momentum of the guards. “This isn’t about me at all. It’s about Connor! You’re trying to kill him!” “Get her out of here,” Xavier snarled. We were almost to the doors and the assembly space outside. The area was thick with vampires. I glimpsed Kat’s shocked face before a hood covered my head and I was dragged forward. “Your Prefect is lying to you!” I hollered. “He doesn’t care about me—he’s trying to kill my master, Connor Thorne! I’m his compagno, and our bond is the highest and most sacred. Our lives, our deaths, are forever ed! Don’t let him do this! Don’t let him use me to harm another Ancient!” A thick door closed, cutting off voices, and I sagged in the guards’ arms, letting them drag me the rest of the way to my cell.

14

I sat in the dark for hours, stewing over how royally I’d fucked up. Chareve had warned me multiple times to keep my mouth shut, my temper under control. But that bullshit about Connor had sent me easily over the edge. And I’d given Engström and Xavier exactly what they’d wanted. Not that it mattered, really. Even had I been a paragon of grace and complacence, the outcome would be the same. It wasn’t me they wanted to kill, but Connor. Everything had a price, and power exacted the largest sum. Despite the fact Connor had no dealings with the Conclave and lived on the other side of the world, they deemed him enough of a threat to seek his demise. How thrilled they must have been when it leaked that I was his compagno, the one weak spot in his armor. Engström must have shit himself with excitement when he realized Connor was gone and I was ripe for the plucking. My being Fae was merely a happy coincidence. They could destroy me and Connor both and toast their cleverness after, while the rest of the Conclave applauded the death of a dangerous enemy and mourned the necessary death of an Ancient. While I teetered toward utter hopelessness, Sickle blinked into my cell with an explosion of light. I gasped, screwing my eyes shut too late—they watered excessively. “Gah, turn that off.” The light faded. I opened one eye, then the other. She was sitting a few feet away, little brown feet tucked under her. “Why are you still here?” I asked. “Where else would I be?” “Oh, I don’t know, the Caribbean comes to mind.”

“Ca-ri-bee-an,” she sounded out. “Where is that?” I sighed. “Forget it.” She studied me for a moment. “Why are you still here?” I opened my mouth. Closed it. Really considered the question. I’d found Sickle and the key, or unlocked the lock, or whatever my mother had alluded to. And Connor and the others needed me. So why hadn’t I tried to escape? Plasma would disintegrate the door—no matter how thick it was, it was wood. I could stun or paralyze enough vampires to find my way out. Couldn’t I? “You doubt yourself.” “It’s a bit more complicated than that. There might be collateral damage.” “Co-lat-er—” I interrupted, “I don’t know what’s above us or around us, or what damage I’d do. I can’t just summon lightning underground. There’s a city on top of us.” “Ah.” She closed her eyes. “Mostly old buildings and unused rooms with shrouded furniture. Several men in black robes reading books near a tree. Beneath, with us, are seventy-six vampires, two magicians, and one lioness.” She looked at me, her cat eyes glimmering. “I don’t share your concerns of ‘collateral damage,’ as you say. Would you like me to take you from here?” I shuddered. “No. Or, um, not yet. Two of the vampires and the lioness are my friends.” “Very well.” She smiled, small and private, like she knew exactly what I wasn’t saying—that I didn’t know if I could trust her enough to tell her my backup plan. And more than that, I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to come with me when my bio-dad saved the day. Footsteps sounded in the tunnel. There were scuffling noises, then Kat’s voice:

“Let go of me! I’m the witness. I have rights! Fiona!” Sickle vanished. Mage light grew outside the bars. I rushed to the door just as Katrina appeared. “This is some next-level Renaissance shit,” she snarled, glancing at the two vampires crowding the tunnel behind her. “What happened?” “They ordered your execution at sunset.” It wasn’t a surprise, but my heart galloped anyway. Primal fear made my words thin, “Kat, listen to me. I saw Connor in domhan.” She jerked. “Is Marcus okay?” “He didn’t know. They were separated. They’ve been there for at least a few weeks. It’s bad, Kat. Morrighan dosed herself with Lodestone. She has Adam. I have to help them.” She glanced down the tunnel, then mouthed, “Your father?” After I nodded, she said, “I’m so sorry, but there’s no way out of here. This place is a warded fortress. Definitely Opal work.” “I understand. Tell Chareve to take you and go. You’ve been guaranteed safe age, right? They’re not going to hurt you?” “I don’t think so. The only good thing about the giant trees up their asses is that they’re sticklers for rules.” “Okay. Good. I’ll find you—” She lifted a hand, eyes wide. Feeling like an idiot, I finished lamely, “In the next life.” Kat studied my face. “They wouldn’t let me bring you food or water.” She was reminding me that I wasn’t at full strength, that if I channeled too much plasma too fast, I could burn myself out and destroy my body. But if for some reason I couldn’t summon my father, or he didn’t answer… well, I’d rather die by my own power than theirs.

“I’m okay. Though a nightlight and toilet would’ve been nice.” Her eyes filled with tears. It was so unlike her, I just stared. “They don’t care about life, Fiona,” she whispered. “Only power and themselves.” I nodded in agreement. “How long do I have?” “Two hours.”

When two vampires unlocked my cell door, I marveled that the hours had ed in what felt like minutes. I expected to be gloved, shackled, or at the least, drugged. Maia walked past the vamps, her dark eyes fixed on my face. “Follow me.” “You don’t have to do this,” I blurted. “I know you don’t agree with Xavier. He’s just killing me to destroy Connor.” She didn’t blink. “Come.” I glanced at the other vamps, but their gazes were trained on a wall, their hands clasped behind their backs. Teeth clenched, I stepped outside the cell. “The other woman imprisoned down here—do you even know what she is?” Maia cocked a dark eyebrow. “There’s no one else down here. Our prisoners don’t come for extended visits.” “But—” Sickle herself interrupted me. “Only the Prefect knows I’m here. I’m a secret, little sister. But not for much longer.” Her tinkling laughter surrounded me, but the faces of the vamps didn’t change. Had Sickle ever spoken aloud, or had her voice been in my head the whole time? I swallowed the discomfiting feeling of not knowing what was real and touched my forehead. The spot she’d tapped was still warm. “Are you well?” asked Maia. I gave her an incredulous look. “I’m about to be executed, lady. Would you be ‘well’ in the same circumstances?” She paused, eyes flickering briefly away. “No.” She waved me forward. I followed, the other two vamps trailing behind me.

“Did my companions leave?” I asked. She nodded. “An hour ago. You should know, they made a valiant effort on your behalf.” I couldn’t shake the sense that I was missing something. Didn’t Maia realize I wasn’t wearing gloves? Wasn’t handcuffed? Even though she had the feel of an Ancient, just walking me out like this was a pretty big risk. Did she think I’d waltz knowingly to the gallows? After several turns, the tunnel began a gentle upward slope. I clenched my fingers a few times, testing the availability of plasma. It leapt eagerly to my call. My heart picked up its tempo. It would be easy, almost too easy, to stun the three vamps and run. But I hesitated—something was off. Ambient light glowed ahead. It looked like… sunlight? I could smell more than old rock now; hear more than silence. We were close to ground level. To the city streets. I finally dared to hope. “What’s going on?” Maia slowed and turned. Her ageless, regal features were impossible to read. “Tell Connor this settles our debt.” Relief made my knees jelly. “Yep. Okay, I will.” She led me forward again, stopping after twenty feet to unlock a wooden door. “This will take you to the street. Your friends should be waiting.” I started for the door, then paused. “What’s going to happen to you?” She waved away my concern. “One more thing, Fiona. Several years ago, Xavier began conversing with a man, an Opal Mage, who consequently introduced him to others. Among these others was an Alchemist from overseas—I believe he died after trying unsuccessfully to kill you.”

Newberry. “Why are you telling me this?” “Xavier’s interests no longer align with those of the Conclave. He has forgotten our most integral principle: we do not participate in the matters of men.” Instinct had me asking, “Has he spent a lot of time in Scotland recently?” Her eyelids flickered. “Yes.” She stiffened, hearing something I didn’t. “Go. Now!” I went, racing up a set of uneven stairs and around several turns. My body fought me, my sight sparkling with fatigue. Finally, I saw an iron gate ahead, and blond hair on the other side shining in the sunlight. Kat yanked the gate open, her strength shattering the old lock. “Come on, come on!” As soon as I crossed the threshold, a wailing alarm sounded behind me. Kat grabbed my arm and yanked me the rest of the way to the open back seat of a car driven by one of the twins. Pedestrians scrambled away from us. We tumbled inside and the car accelerated fast, the door whipping closed. Charles—or was it Eve?—navigated around other cars and through narrow gaps in traffic. We sped through a red light, leaving angry, honking Italians in our wake. “Holy shit.” I gasped, fumbling for a seat belt. It took us fifteen tense minutes to reach a highway, weaving in and out of traffic the whole time, both Kat and I rubbernecking as we looked for a tail. “Hang on!” yelled Chareve. The car turned without slowing, back tires screeching. We sped onto a highway —A90 toward Fiano Romano—the sign there and gone as we raced past. After a handful of minutes, we finally slowed to the speed of traffic. Kat settled into her seat with a sigh. “Could’ve given me a heads-up,” I said halfheartedly.

She smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?” “You suck.” I took a deep swallow from the water bottle she handed me. Then another. God, that’s good. “Maia must have owed Connor big.” “No doubt. She never told us what the debt was, but I can only assume he saved her life once upon a time.” “Will she really not be punished?” Kat lifted a shoulder. “We can only take her word for it. But she seemed confident.” She handed me a paper bag full of fresh fruit, yogurt, pastries, and a gallon of water. I nodded thanks and ripped open an orange. Chareve piped up, “Maia is Xavier’s sire. He might imprison her for a time, but he’d never kill her. A bloodline is strongest when unbroken. He wouldn’t risk a lessoning of his power.” My forehead tingled; I brushed away the sensation. “So, what now?” “Now we get somewhere safe and you summon your father. Xavier has two Sapphire mages in his employ, so we have to move fast. It’s only a matter of time before they find us.” I nodded in agreement. A white-haired Fae—famous thanks to the media—a rare female alpha, and two Ancient daywalker vamps. We were about as inconspicuous as a circus. The tingle in my forehead became more pronounced. What the heck had Sickle done to me? I opened my mouth to tell them about her, but the tingle once again became a burn. Okay, keeping my mouth shut. The burn immediately faded. “You okay?” I glanced at Kat. “Peachy.”

I fell asleep, waking when the car turned off and doors opened. Blinking blearily out the window, I spied a rapidly darkening sky, distant hills, and lots of trees. No buildings, cars, or people around us. “Welcome back,” Kat said. I winced and wiped at the dried drool on my chin. “Where are we?” “Somewhere without bystanders, according to them.” She nodded to where Chareve stood before the car, twin shadows against the rising night. “Are you sure you’re all right?” I frowned. “Yeah, why?” “You look and smell like shit.” I raised an arm and quickly lowered it. “Good God.” “Told you.” I arched a brow. “Couldn’t ‘somewhere safe’ have been a hotel?” A ghost of a smile ed her mouth. “I tried, but they were adamant our tail was closing in on us.” She glanced at them again. “They freak me out.” I nodded. “I’m glad they’re on our side.” “Me too. You ready to do this?” To summon the King of the Blood Court and beg for help. No big deal. “Sure thing.” She tossed a pack of disposable wipes in my lap. “For your face, so Fae-dad can recognize you.” I exhaled a laugh and followed her from the car.

15

What could go wrong, indeed? Maybe a lot. Maybe everything. Like Manannán mac Lir ignoring my call. “Why isn’t it working?” I muttered, echoing the thought in everyone’s mind. “We’re running out of time,” said Chareve, staring toward the road. Kat, pacing nearby, pulled a vibrating cell phone from her pocket. She answered with, “We’re alive… Okay, yep.” She extended the phone to me. “Hello?” Declan said tensely, “I don’t know what happened, and I don’t care, but you need to get out of Europe. You’re number one on Interpol’s list of wanted terrorists.” “What?” I breathed. “I take it you haven’t seen the news?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “A chunk of Vatican city is gone, sparky. It literally sank into the ground. Casualties are still being reported—all of them vamps who were underground.” I stared unseeing at a nearby tree, my mouth agape. Sickle had done exactly what she’d hinted she could—destroy the entire Conclave. If I was honest, I wasn’t surprised she’d taken revenge, only that it hadn’t been… bigger. Deadlier. “It wasn’t me,” I said hurriedly. “We were gone before it happened. Listen, Dec, I can’t talk. I’m trying to summon my father and get us to Maghmael. Connor is in serious trouble. So is Adam.”

His fist hit something hard, cracking wood. “Okay.” His voice was more wolf than human. “Sparky?” “Yes?” “If they catch up to you, don’t surrender. That’s an order from your Prime’s Office. I don’t care if they’re Conclave, or Interpol, or a band of old ladies. Take them out.” “Declan—” “Do you understand?” My hand shook on the phone. “I understand.” The call ended. I turned slowly to Kat and Chareve, whose sensitive ears had heard everything. The vampires gazed over my head. “They’re coming. Xavier and seven others. Two Sapphires. Two Ancients. Three shifters with badges and guns.” Take them out. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to use my power to kill anyone—except maybe Xavier. He deserved to be vampire bacon. My forehead burned. I spun toward the trees and tried a final time. “Manannán mac Lir, Manannán mac Lir, Manannán mac Lir.” No portal appeared. Not even a breeze. Just a little brown rabbit, who took one look at me and bounded away. Power rippled behind me as Katrina disrobed swiftly and transitioned. I’d never seen her lion form, and it was as impressive as I’d imagined it would be. She was the size of a small pony, tawny-colored and packed with muscle. Even Chareve looked impressed. I nodded at the twins. “Thank you. For being here.”

They blinked—their version of where else would we be? Our pursuers weren’t aiming for stealth. Car engines roared closer—headlights appearing around a bend in the road—then slowed and stopped. Figures emerged and doors slammed shut. Someone yelled in accented English, “Fiona Sullivan, you’re under arrest! Surrender now!” Kat and Chareve moved in front of me. To protect me. It felt wrong. Horrible. No one should put themselves at risk for me. But they thought I was weak, recovering from the last days. They didn’t know if I could defend myself. I thought of Connor, slipping toward stasis, trapped in a coffin of dirt. And Adam, suffering at Morrighan’s hand. Ethan, too, if he was even alive. And Lucian, Marcus, Greta. Daphne’s broken body. The Fae still in Maghmael— healers, artists, innocents—frightened and helpless as the Mists swallowed their Sidhe, as their queen betrayed everything they stood for. Fuck. All. Of. It. My forehead burned. Lightning crackled in the cloudless sky. Thunder boomed. Power rolled, angry and itching, beneath my skin. Guns cocked. Sapphire magic flared. I brought down the sky. Eight shafts of lightning, thick as trees and blinding, hit their marks. Eight figures dropped. No screams. No retaliation. Just… silence. The lioness slowly rose and crept forward, nose to the ground and hair standing on end. The vampires followed, darting from one dark, steaming body to the next. I knew what they saw. Knew exactly what the bolts had done—where they’d hit. Not even an Ancient vampire could live without their head. “Clear,” said Chareve, their voice muted with what could only be shock.

The lioness’ golden eyes found mine. She pawed the ground, tail swishing, and bowed her head. I sank to the ground beneath the weight of my guilt, rage, and helplessness, and wept bitterly. Some time later, Katrina, human again, sat beside me. My sobs had quieted. “Eat,” she said gently. I took a hunk of baguette smothered with soft white cheese. My stomach protested, but I made myself chew and swallow, chew and swallow. When I was done, I drank half of a bottle of water, then sipped at the rest. “How did you do that?” she asked at length. “I mean, did you know you could? I’ve only ever seen lightning come from your body.” I shrugged and glanced at Chareve, standing like two statues beneath a nearby tree. It was full dark now, the only light from a glowing crescent moon. The air had turned cool, would grow colder as the night wore on. “I don’t know. I just… willed it. Maybe in the same way you will yourself to shapeshift. Your lion is beautiful, by the way.” “Thanks.” She kicked at the ground. “She’s angry she didn’t get to kill anything. She… we miss Marcus.” The ittance was hard for her—as long as I’d known her, Kat had been fiercely single and independent. She’d fallen hard for the darkly handsome club owner, the first Fae male I’d actually liked upon meeting. “I’ll think of something. There has to be a way into the Sidhes. Someone Earthside who can open a portal.” Chareve said, “A vampire is coming.” They paused. “It’s Maia. Alone.” Kat jumped up and ran to the car, turning the key to activate the headlights just as wings flapped overhead. As the only one with iffy night vision, I was grateful for the beams as a figure dropped from the sky, landing lightly on the balls of her feet. Her hands were lifted and empty—like that meant anything. Chareve positioned themselves between me and the newcomer. Their combined hiss sounded like a den of rattlesnakes.

“I mean no harm,” said Maia. She glanced toward where eight spots of blood marred the ground. The bodies were gone—I had no idea what Chareve had done with them, and I didn’t care. “What do you want?” growled Kat. “Merely to confirm that Xavier is dead.” She sniffed delicately. “Which I have. And to offer a hand of peace from the Conclave.” I laughed roughly. “Well played, Maia. Your coup was a success.” She was unperturbed. “Yes, though I didn’t foresee half of the Conclave dying in the process. You destroyed a priceless library, as well.” “The sinkhole wasn’t me. Kinda wish it had been, though.” Maia went still, the only sign of her surprise. “If not you, then who?” “The other prisoner.” Tensely: “There was no other prisoner, Ms. Sullivan.” I finally rose to my feet, brushing dirt and bramble from my backside. I was sore, filthy, and still needed about a day of sleep. “Yes, there was. Not anymore, though. She’s free. I helped her who she was and whatever spell kept her there was broken.” Because I was watching for it, I saw the flash of recognition on Maia’s face. And since my forehead wasn’t burning, I continued, “She told me to call her Sickle and said she was a Child of the Tree, Sky, and Stars. Mean anything to you?” “I thought it was a legend,” whispered the vampire. Chareve interjected, “Tell your companions to back off or we’ll boil their blood.” Maia’s eyes widened. She lifted a hand and dropped it in silent signal. Chareve reassessed the area, then nodded. I was so used to the twins, it was easy to forget how scary they were. And their power’s unique specialty—blood. A tendril of possibility teased my mind.

Maia broke my train of thought. “This woman, Sickle. Do you know her agenda?” “You mean, does she want to kill you?” She nodded shortly. “How should I know? But if I were you, I’d watch my back.” Kat stirred. “What—who—is Sickle? A Fae?” “I don’t know.” I felt like a broken record. “She’s… alien.” Maia bowed her head. “If you’re correct, and the legend holds true, she’s the last of the Tuatha de Dannan, the race of beings who gave birth to magic itself.” Crickets sang in the silence. “Those are fairy tales,” Kat said weakly. Maia laughed dryly. “Aren’t we all?”

16

Maia’s peace offering included an overnight stay in a modest farmhouse. The owners—a young vampire couple—nearly shat themselves when they saw the Ancient on their doorstep and raced to accommodate her request. I was wobbling on my feet by the time Kat and I were shown our room. Chareve was across the hall. Maia herself had left, citing a midnight meeting with the Pope. Apparently she had some explaining to do—namely, how the Conclave would pay to rebuild the area Sickle had destroyed. Even though the Pope was a vampire turned by Ascension, and therefore a pup compared to Maia, he was still… the Pope. Kat flipped on the television in the room. Every station featured news of the sinkhole. I was glad it was in Italian so I didn’t have to process what they were saying. The images alone were terrible. “The kind of power…” Kat trailed off, staring at aerial footage of Vatican City and the nearly a quarter-mile wide, steaming depression. “They’re lucky she didn’t sink the whole city.” I headed for the bathroom. “I’m showering.” “Thank God.” Middle finger extended over my head, I closed the bathroom door on her chuckle. I was too tired and heartsick to enjoy being clean again. By the time I turned off the water, brushed my teeth, and towel-dried my hair, my body was shutting down. The homeowners had supplied us with changes of clothes, including nightgowns. Mine was a floor-length white sheath with ruffled shoulders. I dragged myself into the bedroom, grumbling, “Not a word,” as Kat opened her mouth.

“What? You look great.” “Shut up,” I groused and tumbled into one of the twin beds. “Wake me up when the world isn’t on fire.” “See you never, then.” I grunted. Despite everything, I was instantly asleep.

I stood in a forest clearing. It had been beautiful once, but no more. Ash drifted overhead. The limbs of charred trees hung mournfully toward the burnt-out shell of a cottage. Animal bodies—rabbits, squirrels, birds, foxes, deer—littered the ground. Untouched by fire, they’d nevertheless succumbed to the smoke. I’d been here before, with Lucian. I scanned the rubble of what had been a lovely, welcoming home. My gaze snagged on a sheen of white hair. “Lucian!” He lifted his head, eyes bloodshot, hair tangled and streaked with soot. Even before I looked down, I knew why he knelt—who he knelt beside. Greta. Lucian lumbered to his feet and picked his way across the debris. I met him halfway, my arms seizing him, holding him as tightly as I could. His chest convulsed, a hand cradling the back of my head. “I’m so sorry about Greta,” I whispered. “I can’t…” He halted; started again, “I’ve tried to reach you so many times. All is lost, Fiona. We failed.” “I won’t believe that,” I said, drawing back to see his face. “Tell me what to do. How to get to you.” He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. The Sidhe’s magic is fading fast now. We are all disappearing with it. There’s no way to open a portal to a place that doesn’t exist. Even if you tried and managed to do it, the gateway would be too unstable.” “Then tell me who can do it!” He touched my face, drawing my eyes to his, which were grave. Resigned. “There was a time, not too long ago, when I harbored the desire to win you for myself. I imagined the children we would conceive and the life we’d build as

friends and partners. Truly, it was not a difficult fate to envision. Perhaps, in time, we would have grown to love each other.” “Shut up, Lucian!” I shoved his chest, belligerent and panicked. “Just shut up and tell me how to fix this! Think about Muriel! Would she want you to give up?” A spark of feeling entered his eyes, then faded just as swiftly. “She’ll never know.” He gazed sightlessly over my head. “We are raised to live without regret. To accept the path our ancestors have laid before us. But… perhaps I could have fought harder for her.” “We don’t have time for your pity party,” I snapped. “I can’t reach my father— do you know why?” His gaze finally focused. “He didn’t answer your call?” “No. Could Morrighan have done something to Eamhna like she did here?” Lucian shook his head. “Manannán mac Lir and the Blood Court are perhaps the only Fae capable of resisting an attack from her.” A tremor vibrated the ground beneath our feet. Lucian’s eyes widened in alarm. “I have to wake up now, Fiona. The Mists are coming.” He framed my face in his hands. “Do you what Airmed told about your memories of the first month you spent here?” I nodded. The words were seared into my mind. There are times when forgetting is a gift. Be careful, lest you fight to reclaim that which should be forgotten. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth. It was I who cloaked your memories. Morrighan would have done it herself, but I offered because I knew I’d be able to reverse it.” I jolted. “Reverse it? Are you sure? Airmed—” “She gave me a different message: ‘There are times when forgetting is a curse. Be careful, lest you fail to return that which should be ed.’ She said I’d know when, and the time is now.” He glanced at Greta’s body, then murmured a few phrases in the Fae’s ancient language. “It’s done.”

Domhan began dissolving around us. “Lucian!” I fought to hold him. “No!” “, Fiona.” His body faded, his words whispering on an astral breeze.

I awoke to Katrina holding me down as I thrashed and screamed, “No!” over and over again. “Fiona! Fiona, stop!” I went limp, nodding and waving her off as I caught my breath. “I’m awake. I’m here.” Chareve stood at the foot of the bed. “What happened?” Too much. So much. I sat up fast, trying to order my thoughts, and barely managed to mumble, “Greta’s dead. Lucian’s trapped. The Sidhe is collapsing. There’s no time left.” I jumped off the bed, tore off the nightgown, and dove for the pile of clothes on the dresser. I barely noticed what I yanked on, only that it was soft and ill-fitting. “Where the fuck are my shoes? Forget it, I don’t need them.” I ran for the door, but Kat grabbed my arm, her superior strength almost sweeping my feet out from under me. “Fiona, stop! Talk to us. What are you doing?” There was too much. It was all too much. I wrung my hands, vibrating with the need to go, go, go. “I !” I yelled. “I now!” Chareve asked, “ what?” Their soft, dual-toned voice somehow disrupted the cyclone in my head, granting me a few moments of calm. Kat released my arm. “I couldn’t my first visit to Maghmael, but I now, and I know what Morrighan wanted kept secret. She tested my blood and found something in it. Whatever it was, she almost killed me on the spot, but the

possibility of breeding me was too tempting. It’s my blood—my blood that can do it.” Kat asked sharply, “Do what?” My focus fractured again. I clutched my head. “Sanguis. My third bloodline. It’s not from a god, or not from who we think of as gods now. It’s them. The Tuatha de Dannan.” You are a descendant. I’d thought Sickle was speculating about the etymology of my name—not remarking on my freaking DNA. Little sister. Kat paced across the room and back. “Shit. Okay. So what does this mean? What do we need to do?” I pointed at Chareve. “It’s what they need to do.” Chareve exchanged a glance. Kat stopped, brows raised. “They have to drain my blood like they’re about to make me a vampire. And then… crap, I can’t exactly—” “Absolutely not,” said Chareve. A new voice, light and airy, remarked, “I’m familiar with the rite and can accommodate your request.” Kat transitioned to lion so fast I choked as heat seared my throat. Before her roar even sounded, I was blocked by a wall of vampire, their auras making my teeth chatter. “Wait—wait.” I gasped. “She’s a friend.” At least, I hoped she was. “Intriguing,” said Sickle.

She surveyed us from her perch near the balcony doors. She sat cross-legged, her pointed chin held by a small hand. Not in a chair, though, or anything so mundane. The Tuatha de Dannan was sitting on air. Moving slowly from behind the vampires, I touched my forehead. “You put a tracking device on me? That was your gift?” “Tracking… device.” She tested the words. “Yes. That is part of the gift.” Chareve said, “You wish to protect her?” Sickle smiled, and if the vampires thought anything about her pronounced fangs, they kept their reaction to themselves. “Of course I do. She is my little sister. I am Sickle. She is Scythe.” I had zero words in response to that, so I said instead, “Can you reach Maghmael? It’s one of the three Sidhes.” “Three Sidhes,” she mused. “First one, then three. Whatever happened to the King and Queen?” “Disappeared a long time ago.” I shook my head. “I can explain everything later, but we have to go. The Mists are swallowing Maghmael. Thousands of Fae are dying.” Cat-like eyes blinked, and I swear I saw a secondary eyelid flash. Cold sweat trickled down my back. Kat nuzzled my hip. I gripped the back of her neck with clammy fingers. “You’re still afraid of me. And yet you petition me?” “Yes,” I itted readily. “I can’t help feeling scared. Humans are generally scared of things they can’t understand.” “You are less human than you think.” She smiled, this time softly. “Little sister. I roamed the world and found only one other like you, but our blood lay dormant in her and cannot be awakened.”

My mother. I hoped Sickle had scared the bejesus out of her. “You’re right,” I told her. “I’m your little sister. Scythe to your Sickle. Will you help me?” “You wish to save the Sidhe, one part of three?” “Yes.” “You would risk your life?” Kat whined. I stroked her head and took a breath. Risking my life meant risking Connor’s, too. But if I didn’t do this, he was dead anyway. “Yes.” Sickle opened her arms and floated to the ground. As she did, she grew taller. When she touched down she was almost my height. In addition to traveling the world since I’d last seen her—no big deal—she’d fashioned a gown for herself that looked like moss and moved like silk. Her hair hadn’t changed much—knots and dreadlocks, but was now littered with leaves, twigs, and flowers. And her face… it was like looking through time to a distant, alien world. Her eyes closed briefly. “The third Sidhe cuts itself off to protect the others. Like… amputation to halt the spread of disease.” “Can we stop it?” I breathed. “We can try.” The goddess extended her hand to me. Chareve and Kat were silent as I took two steps and gave her my hand. With a firm yank, she spun me until her chest met my back, then pulled my head to the side until my neck was taut. Warm breath puffed against my neck. “To awaken, we must sleep. To live, we must die.” Kat whimpered, and Chareve… the twins weren’t mirroring each other anymore. Charles looked distraught. Eve was outright terrified.

“But Connor—” they said, too late. Sickle’s fangs sank into my neck. Time and space warped, unfolded, and swallowed us. Infinite darkness stretched all around, shot through with comets of color. There was no sense of us moving; rather, space moved past us. Through us. We were stardust. The last time I’d visited the Shadowlands, I’d been clinging to Lucian in Maghmael as he transported us from Airmed’s grove to the portal linking the Light Court to the Blood Court. I’d thought it was beautiful. This time was different. The Shadowlands were still beautiful, but grander somehow. Darker. Brighter. More. Perhaps because we weren’t traveling within one world, but traversing the space between worlds. I couldn’t sense my body. Didn’t know if I breathed or if my heart beat. All I could feel was the rhythmic pull of Sickle’s mouth on my neck. To live, we must die. As she sucked my life away, I thought dreamily of fairy tales and myths, religions and resurrections. How I’d experienced my fair share of near-death trials, and how this one took the cake. With the last of my consciousness, I finally understood what the twins had tried to tell me. If I died, so did Connor.

17

“Wake up, little sister.” “Mmmph.” I swatted at the tingle on my forehead, thinking it was a bug. The tingle became a burn. My eyes snapped open. I swung to sitting like a marionette. “Holy shit.” Sickle tilted her head. “Holy… feces?” “Never mind.” We were on the grassy apex of a hill due north of the crumbled, smoking ruin of Maghmael’s palace. The sky above was a bright, eerie chartreuse, no clouds or sun visible. Likewise, as I gained my feet and turned in a circle, I saw nothing else. No birds or animals. No Fae. “Is everyone dead?” Sickle sat cross-legged on the ground, braiding strands of grass. “Nearly. What would you like to do?” “Save them!” I snapped, then blanched. “I’m sorry. I’m worried about my friends.” She yawned. “Then save them. I’ll wait here if you don’t mind. Our journey was greatly taxing, the ritual even more so.” Feeling like a child, I babbled, “But how do I save them? I mean, how do we get everyone off-world? Is there… can you do that? Open a portal to another Sidhe?” “Little sister,” she said softly with a smile, “can you not feel the gift?”

I shook my head, embarrassingly close to tears. “I don’t feel anything.” She plucked a blade of grass, lifting it to her nose and inhaling. “It didn’t want to die,” she said mutedly, “but I didn’t give it a choice.” Her gaze speared me. “My blood, your blood, they are one now, Child of Sky. You died and were reborn. You are as I am, now. Mostly.” I had died. My heart catapulted into my throat. I grasped for the compagno bond and found… nothing. No emptiness or darkness or even silence. Just… aloneness. “Connor,” I choked, spinning toward the forest. I ran. I flew. A mile, two, three… the ground blurred beneath me. I tore into the forest, my feet barely touching dirt and leaves. A hound snarled, leapt at me from the side. Without even looking, I flung out my arm and plasma ripped from my palm. There was a pained howl, then silence. “Connor!” I screamed. “Lucian! Marcus!” How the fuck was I supposed to find them? Maghmael was roughly the same size as Seattle, most of it forested. I didn’t even know where Greta’s cottage was. A wall of white loomed to my left, swallowing trees, blotting out the sky. The Mists. I slowed enough to gauge how fast they were moving—and it was fast. I’d seen maps of the Sidhe. It was dotted with dwellings, villages, farmland. Thousands of Fae lived here. How much of it was gone? “Fiona!” I stopped so fast my hair whipped across my face, almost sobbing in relief. “Marcus! Where are you?” I yelled, spinning. “Stay still. I can see you. Don’t move.” See me? I inspected my arms and legs, wondering if I was summoning plasma without knowing. But I saw nothing except the usual ribbons of scarring. And an

unfortunate outfit consisting of a too-big black T-Shirt and green sweatpants. Scanning the silent forest, I yelled again, “Marcus?” “Here!” he called back, and within seconds I could pick out movement. A lot of movement. Marcus and Lucian came first. They topped a rise and began picking their way down a slope of roots and brush. Behind them came Fae, more and more, moving on near-silent feet. Some were injured, most were shell-shocked, faces drawn with fatigue and fear. I rushed toward them. Lucian met me halfway. I opened my arms, but he stopped a few paces away and dropped to his knees. “Your majesty,” he murmured. Marcus stepped beside him, wincing as he lowered himself. “Mórgacht,” he said. “What are you doing?” I yelped. “Get up!” My eyes widened with confusion and mounting horror as the surviving Fae all knelt and bowed their heads. Only one person remained upright, or two if I counted the unconscious man he held. Every cell in my body wanted to run to Connor, but something held me back. The way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. His unreadable expression. Beyond shocked, I asked him, “What’s happening?” “I don’t know,” he said mutedly. I focused on the man in his arms. It was Ethan, pale and limp. “Is he alive?” Connor nodded. Looked away. Lucian stood. “Fiona,” he said, scanning my face like he’d never seen it before. “Maghmael was gone. We were gone. The Mists… they were everywhere. Until you came. Can’t you see it?” He pointed behind me. Feeling like I was underwater, I turned around. And I saw

a wall of white not five feet away. I flinched, and the surface of the Mist fluctuated. “The Mists parted for you,” murmured Marcus. I lifted a hand toward the barrier. Watched a section depress, as if moving away from my touch. So I took a step forward. The swirling boundary shifted back. You are as I am. “I…” Gulping, I met Lucian’s gray gaze. “Something happened to me.” He nodded, a smile teasing his lips. “Sanguis, the third bloodline. How did you awaken it?” “Long story.” One I didn’t have the strength to tell. “But I came with someone.” Lucian’s brows rose. “Oh?” “She’s the one you should be bowing to.” I glanced past him, at all the Fae who stared at me like I was their savior. “I’ll lead you to her. She’ll know how to get out of here.”

With all the injured, it took much longer to get out of the forest than it had to get into it. I walked at the back of the group with Marcus, providing a buffer between the Mists and the Fae. Lucian was at the front. I didn’t know where Connor was, only that my heart turned to fiery pulp when I thought of him. As much as I wanted to talk to him and find out what he was thinking, I was equally afraid to. The compagno bond was broken. I could only guess he’d been spared death because he’d been beneath the Mists when it happened. When I’d died. It was going to take time to wrap my head around that fun fact. “What did it feel like beneath the Mists?” I asked to distract myself. Marcus kept his gaze on the terrain, features grim as he limped forward. “Nothing. Truly… nothing.” He huffed dryly. “At the end, I was actually relieved to escape the torture of emotions around me. So many violent deaths. All the pain and betrayal, helplessness and fear.” His voice shook. I touched his shoulder, and when he didn’t flinch, I drew up his arm and slid beneath it. “Lean on me,” I ordered. He sighed and let me take some of his weight. “Is Katrina okay? Safe?” “She’s fine,” I told him. “But she misses you. And she’s just as pissed as I am that you assholes left me behind.” His eyes shut briefly. “I’m sure.” I paused. “Why, Marcus?” His gaze flickered to me. “We all had different reasons. Some you won’t understand.” “Try me,” I growled.

“You’re going to have to get used it, you know. The obeisance. A Fae with the blood of the Tuatha de Dannan inside them hasn’t existed since Finvar and Aine.” I almost stopped walking. “Interesting. Is that why you and Lucian didn’t want me to come?” He nodded. “We couldn’t risk your life not knowing whether the bloodline might awaken.” He paused. “The Tuatha de Dannan created our race, our First Legacy. For millennia, they were our gods. For many, especially in Tír na Nóg, they still are. Do you know why we call Danu and Dagdha our Mother and Father?” “I can guess—they were Tuatha de Dannan?” “Yes, but ‘Tuatha de Dannan’ translates roughly to Descendants of Danu, which is a misnomer. The Fae are Danu’s children, yes, but Danu was just one among the beings who came to Earth from a distant world. They never named themselves. Over time, Danu’s mythos grew, and the race was named for her.” “So they were aliens from outer space.” He flashed a smile. “In our mythology, they came from Tír na Nóg Beyond. Another world, a parallel dimension… who knows. But they were here, and they were real. Not only did they give rise to the Fae, they created the Sidhes to which we eventually fled.” “What about human magic?” “That, too, comes from them, but not directly. Around the time mankind began to advance in skills and intellect, the Tuatha de Dannan were already beginning to leave. Some legends have them returning to their home world while others say they faded away once their purpose was fulfilled. Either way, they left traces of magic behind.” I sighed. “I feel like I could spend a lifetime studying Fae history and still not understand everything. Not to mention human Ascension. Vampires, shifters, mages… they were our own legends not long ago.” “Such is the intersection between truth and myth,” he remarked. “But as far as I know, mankind wasn’t created by an alien race, but a rather long and tedious

evolution. What magic the Tuatha de Dannan left in the world became theirs by accident—hence why some like Morrighan loathe them.” “They believe mankind stole what was rightfully theirs,” I deduced. “The remaining magic of their creators.” “Exactly.” I gazed ahead, finally seeing open space beyond the forest. My gaze caught on Connor’s broad back. He hadn’t looked back once. “The compagno bond broke,” I murmured. “Is that why he’s acting this way?” Marcus squeezed my shoulders. “Ah, Fiona. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Connor knows, as I do, that in no possible way can a vampire be consort to a Fae queen.” I stopped. “What?” He touched my face, blue eyes endless. His Empath gifts reached for me, offering calm. I brushed them away without knowing how I did so. “What are you talking about, Marcus? I’m not a queen.” Behind me, the familiar, soft voice of the Oracle Airmed said, “Three bloodlines, three lives—human, stoirm a rugadh, and now, more than both. There is no going backward except in memory. You are who you are.” I faced her, trembling, too overwhelmed to be relieved she still lived. “And who am I?” Airmed bowed her head, hands clasped at her waist. “Our future.”

18

When we reached the hill that overlooked the palace, Sickle was nowhere to be found. I called for her, shouting her name into the faintly metallic air, uncaring that hundreds of people were watching me. They were all wrong, anyway, and would find out soon enough. I wasn’t a queen—it was Sickle who deserved their respect. Their awe. Teetering on the edge of a hysterical meltdown, I sought out the one person who didn’t want to talk to me. Connor was tending to Ethan, who he’d lain on the grass. The mage’s pallor hadn’t improved, nor had his eyes opened. And his aura, normally vibrant white light, was dim and flickering. “What happened to him?” I asked. Connor sat on his heels, shading his eyes from the atmosphere’s unnatural glow. I didn’t like the shadows beneath his eyes. The stark bones and gaunt cheeks. I needed to get him back to Earth so he could feed. “Morrighan happened,” he said. “Beyond that, I don’t know. None of us know exactly what happened when the Mists retreated, only that we all woke up in the forest within walking distance of each other.” “Weird.” “Undoubtedly.” “Are you… okay?” I murmured. He closed his eyes briefly. “No, mo spréach. Of course I’m not. I cannot touch you, hold you, speak with you, without risking everyone here trying to tear me limb from limb.” The truth hit me like a fist: my fear that he’d stopped loving me when the

compagno bond broke was unfounded. What we had was real—this was the proof. No matter how complicated we were, or how unlikely, he was my partner. My lover. My best friend. And I refused to accept that we wouldn’t be together. “How do you know?” “Lucian found a moment to warn me, when he heard you calling for us and realized what that meant.” I bit my lip hard; it was that or scream. “Doesn’t it matter what I want?” When he only lifted an eyebrow, I snapped, “I want you, dumbass.” A flicker of darkness swam in his irises. “The feeling is mutual, love.” He glanced at the nearest group of Fae, watching us discreetly with barely veiled disdain. “But there’s nothing to be done about it.” “Fuck that. Reinstate the compagno bond. You can do that, can’t you? Then they’ll have to accept you—you’ll be linked to me.” He sighed and shook his head. “Fiona, it’s not that simple.” “Nothing is ever simple, but that’s never stopped us before. I won’t… No! This isn’t happening. Connor, I—” “Don’t,” he said, jaw tense. “I can’t articulate the torture of not being able to touch you right now. Don’t make it unbearable.” Blinking back stubborn tears, I gazed down at Ethan. His breathing was shallow and slow. And I realized that this, at least, was something I could tackle. Solve. Fix. I turned toward the company of Fae scattered around us. “Who here is a healer?” Seven hands went up. “Who among you is willing to use your magics to benefit a human?” Six hands went down. My jaw tightened, but I put aside my annoyance and pointed at the auburnhaired Fae woman. “Can you come here, please?”

She rose with the flowing grace of her kind and walked up the hill to us. Bowing her head, she murmured in a soft, sweet voice, “I’m Wyn. Greta Ó Cléirigh was my mentor. How may I be of service?” She was young for a Fae. Not yet a hundred. Her healing talent was strong and instinctive, inherited from her maternal grandmother. I started to question how I knew that, then didn’t bother. A gift of sanguis. “Thank you, Wyn.” I gestured to Ethan. “Is there anything you can do for him?” She glanced at Connor, eyes wide. He sighed and moved back several paces. Wyn knelt beside Ethan and placed her fingertips on either side of his face, just below his cheekbones. She closed her eyes, and her gifts began to saturate the air. I smelled fresh springtime air. Felt a cool breeze, which faded when she sat back and opened her eyes. “There is no wound.” Somewhere behind me, Sickle said, “Sanguis is magic, blood is sanguis. Blood is magic.” I spun, startling a gasp from Wyn, but Sickle wasn’t behind me. “Did you hear that?” I demanded. Connor shook his head, worry in his eyes. Wyn looked around us and asked, “Hear what, your majesty?” I swallowed a curse. “Never mind.” Just my imaginary friend. I focused on Ethan. Memories swamped me. Our first meeting. Him helping me escape the compound and find my dad. His creation of gloves to equalize my charge and allow me to touch others. A soft kiss in the Liberati warehouse, before I’d discovered he was CIA and had actually wanted me captured. I knew he’d been conflicted about that. Knew he’d felt deep remorse for causing me pain. In Denver, he’d risked his life saving me from Newberry and Valcourt.

Just that what I do, I do for the good of humanity. Regardless of his questionable choices and justifications, I felt responsible for him. It was my fault he’d been caught in the crossfire that day when Morrighan appeared and kidnapped us. He didn’t deserve what had happened to him. What she’d done to cause his affliction. I sat beside his head. Touched his thick, dark hair, wavy and grown to his shoulders from his months in Maghmael. Then I looked up at Connor. “Find me a knife, will you?” To his credit, he didn’t argue. I stroked Ethan’s hair until he returned, Lucian at his side. The Fae offered me a small, sharp dagger with a hilt of engraved gold. His gray gaze flickered between Ethan and me. “Should I be worried?” he asked. “No clue. But if this doesn’t work, I’m going to feel really stupid.” Especially since we were attracting a crowd of spectators. I angled the knife toward my wrist, then looked in warning at Connor. He nodded and blurred, fleeing to a distance where the scent of my blood wouldn’t overwhelm him. It was a good thing I didn’t press too hard: the blade split my skin at the barest touch. I hissed at the sting, then gasped. “Sanguis,” whispered Lucian. My blood shimmered against my skin, more gold than red. “Fancy,” I breathed. “What are you supposed to do now?” asked Lucian. I felt a moment’s panic, until Wyn said with quiet awe, “My grandmother told me a bit about the fabled sanguis magic. If legend holds true, a little in his mouth should suffice.” I moved my wrist above Ethan’s mouth and watched three drops of glistening blood hit his parted lips. When no more followed, I frowned and peered at my wrist to find the cut closed. No sign of it, or any blood, remained on my skin.

“Fiona?” croaked the prone man. I met Ethan’s dark, confused gaze and grinned, overwhelmed with relief. “Welcome back to the living.” After a slight smile, his eyes closed again. As I watched, his skin flushed with health, returning to its rich brown tone, and his breathing deepened. “Astonishing,” murmured Wyn. She knelt on the other side of the mage. Summoning her magic, she ed a hand over his face and chest. “He’s in perfect health. Merely sleeping.” Lucian touched my shoulder. “Do you feel all right?” “I’m fine.” A quick look toward the forest—and the opaque, shining barrier that now obscured it—told me I was full of shit. Nothing was fine. Standing, I angled toward Lucian and murmured, “What do you think we should do?” He gave the hillside of refugees a glance. “Food, water, shelter,” he said, sighing. “As much as we set ourselves apart from humanity, we need the same things to survive. And while I don’t know if this”—he gestured toward the bright green sky—“will change, if it does, we need safety before darkness falls. Morrighan left at least ten hounds.” “The palace, then. There has to be some part of it not completely unstable.” “I agree. Perhaps we can find food and water there as well.” “And it will give people something to think about besides…” I trailed off. Lucian’s stare was penetrating. “You don’t know how to get us out, do you?” I shook my head. “I don’t even know how I got in. Like I said, I didn’t even get us here. We traveled through the Shadowlands from Earth.” His eyes widened. “That’s impossible.”

I shrugged. “Not impossible for her, I guess.” “And who is this mysterious ally?” I told him all of it, from my first conversation with the Tuatha de Dannan, to her ing who she was and her beef with Morrighan. Then I relayed what I knew would be hard for him to hear: her vampiric fangs, cat eyes, crazypowerful magic, and in the Shadowlands, how she’d drained my blood and given me hers in an ancient ritual to awaken my blood. Lucian, who’d grown increasingly uncomfortable through the retelling, finally said, “This is difficult to digest. You’re telling me that the Tuatha de Dannan created the Fae and… and…” I ripped off the Band-Aid. “And vampires, shifters, and mages. All magic, on Earth and in the Sidhes, comes from them.” If he were any other highborn Fae, he might have protested. Or vomited. But he’d seen enough, experienced enough, that he just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He mumbled something. “What was that?” His bright eyes found mine. “After you went into Water’s Eye, Manannán mac Lir told me not to worry, that you weren’t done turning worlds on their heads. He was right—you’re changing everything.” I frowned, something inside me buckling against the weight of those words. Growing up, I hadn’t dreamed of riches, fame, or power. All I’d wanted was a quiet, stable life surrounded by people I loved. And on the heels of that thought was another, faintly disturbing one. Maybe Eleana and I weren’t so different, after all. “I won’t be a Fae queen,” I said tightly. “I’m not cut out for politics or ruling or anything like that. I just want a home. Maybe a garden. Boring life—that’s my goal.” To my surprise, he nodded. “Oh, I know you’ll never allow yourself to be

crowned. Even if others won’t understand why. You’ve always created your own path forward, Fiona. I have no doubt you’ll find a way to a peaceful life.” My mouth felt wobbly. “Thanks, Lucian.” He winced. “If you cry, I’ll walk away.” So I laughed instead.

19

The sun—wherever it was—did eventually set on Maghmael. Thankfully, by the time dusk slid across the sky, we’d found shelter in the least-destroyed wing of the palace, in a large, ornate hall mostly untouched by destruction. Those with us who’d lived or served in the palace also collected perishables and jugs of water from the kitchens, half of which was still standing. Globes of soft, golden light floated near the ceiling, courtesy of an unnamed Fae. And while the mood wasn’t the least bit celebratory, the palpable tang of fear had eased. For the moment, we were safe. After offering the gift of my blood to those Fae more gravely injured, Marcus forced me to sit and eat. I wasn’t hungry—especially after watching a twisted, broken arm straighten and a grossly deep gash repair itself—but managed to choke down some bread. Marcus and Lucian kept me company until the lights overhead finally dimmed and Fae settled down to get what sleep they could. “Be careful,” whispered Marcus. I nodded. “I won’t go outside,” I lied. Lucian shook his head. “I still don’t—” I touched his shoulder, silencing him. “I’ll be okay. I’m just going to see if Sickle will talk to me without others around. I need her help. We need her help.” He let me go with a sigh of resignation. My bare feet were soundless as I slipped out of the hall. For the first time in my supernatural life, I could see in the dark. And it was glorious. I made my way toward the cavity of broken wall we’d entered through, carefully climbing over the rubble until, finally, I felt grass beneath my feet.

I sensed Connor a moment before he spoke. “Fiona,” he breathed. I turned and melted into his arms, squeezing him tightly, unabashedly drawing in lungfuls of his scent. “I missed you so much. I’m sorry I broke the bond. I’m so glad you’re okay.” “Don’t apologize for anything,” he said into my hair. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. I’m sorry I keep trying, and failing, to keep you safe.” I laughed soundlessly. “It’s okay. I know you can’t help it. Neither of us can. We’re control freaks. Please, drink.” He drew back, a frown on his brow. “Fiona, I don’t know what will happen if I drink from you now that your blood has changed. I can hold on—” “No way. I need you at full strength.” His internal battle was short-lived; he was starving. His fingers shook as he moved the hair from my neck. Despite his need, he was gentle, his bite painless. He withheld his Kiss—that erotic torture—and I was grateful. The sounds he made were bad enough. His familiar, starry power grew stronger and stronger the longer he drank. Just when I felt the first whisper of dizziness, he withdrew with a lick that made my knees weak. I gazed up at him, iring the proof of his vitality. He licked a drop of blood from his lip. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Do I taste different?” I wondered. He shook his head, smiling softly. “Not really. Though there’s perhaps an added zing.” I smirked. “Zing, huh?” Behind us, a chiming voice said, “I cannot which of us birthed vampires, but I do why—a human greatly loved had died, and so they

were given new blood, new life, and thus the power to live on in the night. I’m happy to see the sun allergy has been remedied.” I turned, half-expecting to find no one, but there she was—Sickle, small again, and once more sitting on air. She surveyed us with a pleased smile. Connor took a halting step toward her and bowed. “I’m honored you’ve chosen to show yourself in my presence, Ancient One.” Sickle’s smile widened, her fangs gleaming. “You remind me of the first of your kind, brave-hearted and true. I’m gladdened by you.” She looked at me. “You’ve chosen well.” Sickle’s approval apparently meant a lot to me, because a knot inside me relaxed. “Thank you.” I paused. “I have a lot of questions, beginning with what happened to the rest of the Fae in Maghmael.” She floated toward us, then lowered to the ground. Her tiny feet touched grass. “I could only bring back from the Mist those souls who still wanted to return, who retained a spark of self.” “And everyone else? Did they go on to the Fae afterlife?” She shook her head. “The true nature of the Mist is Void. Think of it as”—she frowned as she scoured her new repositories of language—“an insurance policy to protect the balance of all life. What happened here, the poisoning of the Sidhe, tipped the balance toward chaos. And so the Mists arose.” There was more truth, there, hidden in her words—like why the Mists had arisen in the first place after the disappearance of the High King and Queen and separated one Sidhe into three. What had happened to Finvar and Aine that disrupted the balance of the universe? Sickle asked, “Would you like to know where I’ve been?” I nodded, confused. “Did you leave Maghmael?” “No.” She gestured over her shoulder. I heard a dog-like whine and stiffened. “Come now, Cerberus.”

I could feel Connor bracing, ready to grab me and retreat to the sky, as a black dog padded to Sickle’s side. He was nearly the same height as her, huge and sleek, with a fox-like head and large, pointed ears that were currently flattened back. “Cerberus wishes to apologize for the atrocities Morrighan forced him and his brethren to commit.” I held my breath as the canine looked at Sickle, then me. Intelligence shone in his black eyes. He took slow steps toward me, huge body graceful and silent as he approached. When he was just three feet away, he lowered to the ground, whining a little as he wiggled the rest of the way toward me. Then he looked up at me, huge pink tongue dangling from the side of his mouth, ears perked and tail thumping. Despite the red sheen in his eyes, I softened. “I forgive you, Cerberus,” I said and held out a hand, praying he wouldn’t bite it off. He yipped and promptly slobbered all over my palm. “This was a hound?” asked Connor in muted shock. “Aye,” said Sickle sadly. “The others… I could not reach them, only release them from their suffering. But Cerberus was always a bit different. Weren’t you, my sweet?” The grinning dog sat on his haunches and nodded. At least, I think he nodded. Did he nod? “He did,” Connor answered my thought, a smile in his voice. “He’s beautiful.” I reached out tentatively to touch his brow, but before I could, he flipped onto his back and exposed his belly, tail wagging. I was done for. Cooing, I dropped to my knees and scratched him until his back legs flopped with boneless pleasure. Connor chuckled. “He certainly has you pegged.” Smiling, I looked down into Cerberus’ dark eyes. Happy now. Sorry. Bad master. Bad meat. Trapped. New master good?

“He can communicate,” I whispered. “Of course he can,” Sickle said archly. New master. Good master. I closed my eyes in resignation. “He’s mine now, isn’t he?” “Yes.” I gave the dog a final stroke and stood. He stood as well, pointed ears high and alert as if waiting for orders. I asked Sickle, “How am I supposed to explain his presence? When he was Morrighan’s, he literally ate Fae.” Cerberus’s head lowered, his tail tucking. “I’m sorry, boy. I know it wasn’t your fault.” Sorry. Sorry. Sickle ignored my question, gazing lovingly at the dog. “Cerberus is only one of his names. He’s also been called Anubis, Xolotl, Fenrir… He is very special. My first and only Shadow-walker. The only hound strong enough to be his own master, though he has the ability to choose one should he desire. Right now, he needs positive reinforcement and guidance, and he has chosen you.” Anubis, Xolotl, Fenrir… they’d been gods at one point. Literal gods. And Cerberus—myth placed him as the right-hand of Hades, Greek god of the underworld. While I recovered from the zillionth shock of my life, Connor asked, “I’m assuming Morrighan didn’t know this? About Cerberus?” “Oh, she did. But instead of seeking to be worthy of his loyalty, she abused him into submission. And once he was turned to her will, his kindred followed.” A glistening golden tear rolled down Sickle’s cheek. “Still, he was enough of a threat to her that she left him here, leashed by spells, to die with the Sidhe.” My first and only Shadow-walker. Hearing my train of thought, Sickle continued, “He was worshipped for his ability to travel between worlds and guide souls from one realm to the next. He knows his way through the stars.”

“He can get us out of here,” I breathed, then looked at Sickle. “You can’t?” “I could. So could you, if I had the time to teach you. But I’m traveling elsewhere, and the training takes years. Don’t worry, little sister, you’ll see me again.” She glanced at Connor. “Worry not—she will always need you. As you’ll need her.” With a small smile for us, she began to fade. I lurched forward. “Wait—” She was gone. “I hate that.” Cerberus inched forward and licked my hand. I stroked the soft fur between his ears. “Now what?” Connor glanced at the wreckage of the palace. “We’ll let them all sleep a while longer. Then tell them about Cerberus.” I sighed. “At least there’s good news with the bad.” “They’ll get over the bad news.” His grin was feral. “Or they can stay here.”

20

The introduction of Cerberus went about as well as expected—that is to say, not well. Some called out for his swift death. Others fled to the opposite end of the hall, farthest from us, and cowered in fear. I didn’t blame them. They had major PTSD. Cerberus might have looked different now, but the fact remained: he’d been one of Morrighan’s fearsome hounds, and as such, his teeth were stained with the blood of innocent Fae. Selfishly, I was glad so many of them hated Cerberus and that he was bonded to me. It would make things easier when they tried—and failed—to put a crown on me. And with every interaction, no matter how minimal, it became more obvious they would try. Their culture was so steeped in monarchistic thinking, I doubted they had much personal choice in the matter. With their queen gone, they needed a new one. Despite my human ears and lack of Fae-glow, I was powerful, not evil as far as they could tell, and had delivered them from death. The only Fae who took to Cerberus right away was Marcus, who currently fed the beast morsels scavenged from the kitchen. “Good, good boy. What a fine young man you are.” Happiness radiated from Cerberus at the praise. “He likes you,” I told Marcus. He grinned. “As I told you once before, I’m universally likable. Doesn’t matter if they have two legs or four.” He paused. “Or eight.” I shuddered. “Spiders, really?” Lucian interjected, “You’re sure this will work?” “Yes,” I answered. “Cerberus can guide us through the Shadowlands without an anchor.”

“All right. Then I’ll spend some time smoothing ruffled feathers.” He glanced at the dog before his gaze sharpened on me. “Turning worlds on their heads, indeed.” “Not my doing, ?” “So you say.” He spun on a heel and strode toward a cluster of grumbling Fae. I watched them relax and fall quiet, ready to listen to him. Maybe they didn’t need a queen, after all, but a king. I mulled on that until Connor said, “Ethan would like a word.” “Of course.” Cerberus’s ears perked up. “Stay with Marcus, buddy. I’ll be right back.” He yipped, tongue rolling out of his mouth. I followed Connor to where Ethan sat nursing a cup of tea Wyn had brewed for him. He was still weak from his ordeal, and his eyes bore shadows no amount of sleep would erase. “Hi, Fiona.” “Ethan.” I sat beside him. “How are you feeling?” “Physically, I’ll be fine.” He left the rest unsaid. “We have to get Adam away from her.” Also unspoken was the knowledge that unlike Ethan, who possessed the training and skills of a CIA agent, for all intents and purposes, Adam was a layperson. No matter how developed his magic, he wasn’t equipped to withstand torture. “Connor updated me a bit,” I said softly. “She made you replicate Lodestone?” He nodded. “And she’s not alone, Fiona. She had allies here. There are many who believe in her cause.”

Cold radiated down my spine. “And what cause is that, exactly?” Ethan’s gaze met mine. “I heard bits and pieces, enough to put together a rough idea. She’s going to Tír na Nóg to find a tree. Does that make sense?” I nodded, my cold intensifying. “If she finds the tree and wakes it up—whatever that means—she’ll be crowned High Queen. Then she’ll raise an army for war.” “On Earth?” I asked, though it was a foregone conclusion. He nodded. “She mentioned the other Sidhe, too. Eamhna. Morrighan takes vendettas to a new level.” “That she does,” murmured Connor. Then he asked the question teasing my thoughts, “If you know so much about her plans, why did she leave you behind?” “I was as good as dead,” replied Ethan, not meeting our stares. “Her coercion wasn’t as effective anymore—like my magic was tired. Drying up. I should have killed myself weeks ago, but she always seemed to know when I was thinking about it. Then she’d threaten my family. She knew everything, Fiona. Names, ages, locations. I thought… I don’t know why I believed her. I fucked up. I should have ended it. Instead, I made Lodestone for her.” I knew it was futile to argue with him. Either he’d work out a way to come to with what happened or the doubt and guilt would eat him alive. All I could tell him was, “If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else.” “And now it’s Adam.” He looked at Connor, gaze searching. “The violation…” He swallowed. “How did you survive a year with her?” Connor’s expression didn’t change; he didn’t ask how Ethan knew about his slavery. Instead, he said, “There’s a part of you she couldn’t touch. When you find it again, you’ll know the answer.” Even though I didn’t want to, I asked Ethan, “How much more Lodestone does she need?” Before Adam outlives his usefulness.

“I don’t know.” So much shame in the words. I touched his shoulder as I rose. Across the hall, Lucian turned and our eyes met. He nodded—the Fae were ready to be led by Cerberus. “We’re leaving now,” I told the men.

21

I was growing increasingly comfortable with pretending I knew what I was doing. Within twenty minutes, every living being left on Maghmael was standing outside the palace ruins around Cerberus and me. “Are you sure you can do this, boy?” I whispered. The look the dog gave me was pure affront. He followed it by sending me an image of Eamhna’s towering cliffside capital. Then another of one paw covering another. The paws slipped apart, and one of the paws disappeared. The message was clear enough. “Hold hands! Stay tight and in physical . If you let go, you’re lost in the Shadowlands. Got it?” Assent rang out. The circle grew tighter as everyone clasped hands or shoulders. Connor, Lucian, Marcus, and Ethan formed the first ring, protecting and buffering Cerberus and me. I looked up at Connor. “Here goes something.” His lips twitched. “Ever an adventure, mo spréach.” I knelt beside Cerberus and stroked the soft fur between his ears. The men knelt as well—Connor’s and Lucian’s hands on either of my shoulders, Marcus and Ethan gripping fur on the dog’s back. Around them, Fae leaned forward, clasping available shoulders, arms. Wyn was the only one brave enough to touch Connor, though those behind her had no qualms gripping parts of her. “Ready?” I shouted. More assent, shuffling, and whispered prayers. I hugged Cerberus, my arms barely meeting around his huge torso. “Okay, boy. Get us out of here.”

He yipped. A wave of heat hit me and the world melted. I didn’t see the Shadowlands this time, nor did I care to. I kept my face against Cerberus’s fur and focused on the points of pressure that marked Connor’s and Lucian’s grips. Feigned confidence aside, I didn’t like interstellar travel, be it a thrumming portal or ride through the Shadowlands. No matter how convenient or pretty it was—and I heard the exclamations of awe around me—it scared the shit out of me. Some kids wanted to be astronauts. Some kids wanted to plant flowers. “Open your eyes, Fiona,” Lucian said with an undertone of mirth. “We’re here.” I peeled my stiff fingers from Cerberus’s fur. Beneath us was sparse, windflattened grass, and above was a stormy sky. Fresh, salty air met my upturned face. Raindrops hit my skin. Not caring who watched me, I grabbed Cerberus. “You’re the best boy, the bestest.” He wiggled happily, tail whacking legs, and knocked me flat in the process. Soft, slobbery licks coated my face. Laughing, I ruffled his furry face and gave myself over to the simple pleasure of his joy. “I can’t say I’m terribly surprised,” came a deep-chested voice above me. I looked up at Manannán mac Lir, belatedly realizing why he appeared so tall. Everyone else, including Connor, was kneeling. Sensing the change in mood, Cerberus sat on his haunches, eyes alert as he stared at my bio-dad. I sat up, wiping doggie goo from my face with a sleeve. “Your majesty, sorry to pop in unannounced.” “You’re not sorry in the least.” He offered me a hand. I accepted and he helped me to my feet, likely saving me some embarrassment. “And don’t bother with a curtsy. You’re horrible at them.” He looked older than when I’d last seen him. Tired. His thick white locks now seemed an indicator of age rather than mere genetics. His power was the same, though, electric and humming. The pendant hanging on his chest, a thick gold trident, gleamed as it caught what little sunlight ed through the clouds.

“I apologize for not answering your call, Daughter. I was rather busy.” Busy? Seriously? “Doing what?” Lucian and Marcus coughed sharply, but the king only sighed. “Executing traitors and rescuing those trapped in the capital when it was destroyed.” I stared, and stared, waiting for my brain to work again. He looked toward the sea, eyes shifting colors between aqua, gray, and navy. “Morrighan has much to answer for.” His gaze shifted to me. “We’ve moved the court to its former residence, a mile or so up the coast. Let us walk together and share knowledge.” “Okay.” He belatedly gestured for everyone to rise. New Fae moved among the survivors of Maghmael. Dressed in the darker, jeweled fabrics of the Blood Court, they mingled while dispensing water, food, bandages, and in three cases, stretchers. I frowned at that—those Fae had declined my miraculous healing blood, telling me they weren’t worthy of it. Idiots. The king watched his people’s progress with a pinched expression. “Are you well?” I asked as softly as I could. My father’s slight smile didn’t reach his eyes. “No one has asked me that in centuries.” He paused. “I am well in body but worn in heart. Come, we’ve much to discuss.” We walked north on a wide, dirt road that ran along the cliffs, eventually veering inland. The rest of the company was well behind us—he may have been thousands of years old, but Manannán mac Lir set a grueling pace. The only one in earshot was Connor, who walked behind us with Cerberus at his side. As the king relayed all that had transpired in the cliffside city a mere week ago, I listened with a heart grown as weary and heavy as his.

The Blood Court was known for its powerful elemental bloodlines. While there were only three stoirm a rugadh—Lucian, myself, and the king beside me—there were others with truly terrifying powers. Among them was Lucian’s half-brother, Niall, the only Fae to currently control lóstran, or magma. Niall could alter the topography of a world by heating and melting rock. Earthquakes, volcanos, and tidal waves were his specialties. It was he, with a small cadre of ers, who’d attacked the city before escaping through a portal. “We lost four hundred and seventy-two souls as the city fell into the sea.” Niall had been a jerk to me when I’d met him, but he was now upgraded to evil, irredeemable asshole. “I’ve closed the borders of Eamhna,” said the king, glancing at me askance, “to everything but a fabled hound of the Tuatha de Dannan, apparently. Tell me Morrighan doesn’t possess another capable of traveling between worlds.” “No. Cerberus is the only one who can.” “Good.” We walked on, rounding a hillside, and a large fortress came into view. Flanked by forests, it looked torn from the pages of a fairy tale. High walls and spires gleamed darkly. A massive, arched entrance revealed a stone courtyard beyond and throngs of Fae moving to and fro, their voices carrying on the wind. Horses, sheep, and cattle grazed in nearby fields, and beyond them were miles of farmland. “Are you able to take in the survivors of Maghmael? There’s a hundred and forty of them.” I could feel his assessing glance. “Only because I know your heart am I not offended by such an abhorrent question. They are welcome in Eamhna.” He slowed as we neared the entrance. “And you, Daughter? Will you stay?” I met his color-shifting gaze. The offer was surprisingly tempting. Something about this particular Sidhe soothed my battered soul. Each lungful of air was calming, revitalizing, like the land itself recognized me as its own—stormborn and daughter of its steward.

But it wasn’t home. “Morrighan is searching for Yggdrasil,” I said instead of answering him. He nodded gravely. “I have no Sight, but when you’ve lived as long as I have, you’re able to recognize patterns of the past and therefore the most likely futures. She has always wanted Earth—if she cannot rule it, she’ll destroy it.” The words sank like a stone in my stomach. I thought back to what Ethan had told us. “If she finds the tree, the Shadow Court will crown her High Queen and go to war for her?” The king gave a Gallic shrug. “Possibly. But I don’t think she’ll find it.” My patience frayed. I was hungry, tired, traumatized, and annoyed enough to grumble, “And why is that?” His warm, broad hand descended on my shoulder. Plasma twitched beneath my skin. I couldn’t read his expression, though his eyes lightened to gray. Like mine. “Because, dear Daughter, you will find it first.” Releasing my shoulder, he pulled a heavy ring from his finger and handed it to me. Set in silver filigree was a small, amber stone. “What’s this?” “A com and key. The sap of Yggdrasil before its veins ran dark with blood. This is what Niall tried and failed to take from me.” My fingers trembled as they closed around the ring. Finally—finally—some good news. “Thank you,” I whispered. The king nodded. “Stay a few nights, at least. Rest and regain your strength.” Thinking of Adam, I said, “I can’t.” Behind me, Connor murmured, “Two nights, Fiona. I need them.”

Manannán mac Lir gazed past me, then squared his shoulders. “Constantin, you’ve proven your loyalty to my daughter a hundredfold. I have long misjudged you.” The king removed another ring, this one set with a glittering black stone. A hush fell around us, every Fae silent and staring as he strode to Connor, lifted his right hand, and slid the ring onto his middle finger. “Accept this gift marking you as kin. May it be a reminder to all Fae that we are descendants of the same race. You will always be welcome in Eamhna.” Connor’s face was slack with surprise and gratitude. He bowed. “I humbly accept your gift. Thank you, your majesty.” The king offered a gracious nod, then turned to me. “I’ll summon a steward to see to your needs while you’re here.” “Thanks, but first, can you point me toward the infirmary?” His brows lowered, then lifted in understanding. In his eyes was a mess of emotion—joy, curiosity, sorrow. He cleared his throat. “I should like to accompany you, to witness the blood-gift our gods bestowed on you.” I nodded, and the king motioned me forward. As we ed into the courtyard, the gossiping began. Whispers of sanguis became exclamations of awe as they realized the bloodline of the Tuatha de Dannan had returned. When Fae began bowing as I walked by, I clenched my teeth and ignored them. The king murmured, “You do not exalt in the regard your rare gifts bring?” “I didn’t earn them or ask for any of this. And let’s be honest—if I wasn’t stormborn or didn’t have special blood, I’d be nothing to anyone here but a human halfbreed. So, no, I don’t enjoy the groveling.” Manannán mac Lir regarded me somberly, though his eyes shone with affection and pride. “And that, my only and final legacy, is exactly why you are worthy of it.”

22

Late that night, in a room of our own, I finally broke down and wept in Connor’s arms. I’d healed eight Fae. Only eight. The destruction Niall had wrought on the cliffside city had been so vile, so exact, that most had died within minutes, crushed by rubble or emulsified by lava. The survivors were those who’d either lived outside the cliff, been close enough to the king to be shielded, or had been lucky enough to survive the leap to the sea below. After visiting the infirmary, the king had taken me at my request to where rows upon rows of shrouded bodies lay awaiting death rites. Those that could be identified had small, engraved stones placed on their chests. Lucian was there, kneeling beside a shrouded form. By the tears on his face I knew it was his brother’s wife, Muriel. He’d lost his mother and the woman he loved in one fell swoop. When I’d moved to approach him, the king had stopped me, saying gently, “Let him be.” Now, I lifted my head from Connor’s chest and said, “I hate her.” His thumb stroked my wet cheek. “I know. Just as I know the reason it hurts so much is because Morrighan evokes more than hate.” He sighed. “Not love. Never that. But comion, yes.” My gut twisted with the words, because they were true. She’d been different once upon a time. Softer. Kinder. Less psychopathic. And her motivations weren’t even that hard to fathom. At her core, Morrighan wanted to protect her people. How many Fae souls had she watched die on ancient battlefields of Earth? How many had she freed from pain? Too many. But in the end, it had taken only one death to tip her from badass warrior-goddess to Fae-Hitler. Her granddaughters’.

Connor knew my thoughts. “She loved Eleana, but her love was poison, turning Eleana herself into more of a symbol than a woman with her own wants.” He hesitated. “I know you’ve wondered why I don’t speak of the hundred years Morrighan kept me.” I stirred. “You don’t have to—” “I know, love, but it’s all right. I’m ready to tell you.” I sat up so I could see his face, his eyes dark emeralds in the candlelight. “The mob who murdered Eleana died too fast to sate Morrighan’s need for vengeance. So the fact I survived the vampire who killed my family pleased her. I was someone who wouldn’t die easily.” He paused. “Her torture wasn’t physical. Instead, she gave me her pain. Every day for a hundred years, I saw and felt Eleana’s death. The death of Morrighan’s hopes for the future.” His words weighted the air, dense and dark. “That’s why you wouldn’t attack her outright?” I whispered. He nodded. “It’s hard to explain, but essentially, yes. Though my recent experience has since remedied my moral confusion.” I sniffed back a new wave of tears. “This is all so fucked up.” “Indeed.” He drew me back into his arms. I snuggled against him on the small, soft bed. “Do you think the king was right? That we’ll find Yggdrasil first?” “We have to,” he said simply. “While I don’t know what she hopes to accomplish by finding Yggdrasil—I’m not sure any of us do—we cannot let her reach it.” “I don’t want to go to Tír na Nóg. I want to go home, Connor. With you. I wish none of this was happening. I’d even stay in the Consort’s Suite forever, if that’s what it took to have everything back to the way it was.” He expelled a dry laugh. Lifting my chin with a finger, he scanned my face. “Ah,

mo spréach. If we survive this, I’m reg. I don’t want to be a Prime anymore.” I jerked. “What?” He smiled softly. “In that grave beneath the Mists, I came face to face with my own mortality, as it were. It made me realize what truly matters. I, too, want a life with you. Lifetimes, if possible. Wherever you wish to be—the middle of nowhere or in the middle of everything—I’ll be there, too.” I dashed away more tears, annoyed with myself. “I’m an emotional basket case.” “Hardly.” He kissed my nose. “You’re perfect exactly as you are.” I shook my head. “And what am I? Human or Fae? Or neither because of what Sickle awakened in my blood? We’ll never blend in or belong anywhere. We’ll never have peace.” He drew me back to his chest, stroking my hair with a heavy, soothing hand. “I felt the same way in the decades after I was turned, as well as each time my powers substantially increased. It’s the ongoing identity crisis of immortals, I’m afraid. But I never had someone to share it with. And I’m yours forever, Fiona. You’ll never go through it alone.” I took what felt like my first deep breath in hours, then decided to ruin it. “I’m still mad at you for leaving me at the compound. I was humiliated and hurt.” “I know. I’m sorry.” “You’d do it again, though, wouldn’t you?” I asked. His chest shook with laughter. “Definitely not.” “Really?” I asked skeptically. “Why? “Three reasons. One, you now have the awakened blood of gods in your veins. Two, you’ve acquired a hellhound as a bodyguard. And three, and most importantly, I also realized my actions in the past stemmed from more than a fear of losing you. Quite frankly, I don’t know how to do this.”

I’d never heard him so uncertain. I shifted so we were face to face. “What do you mean? Do what?” He waved a finger between us, avoiding my gaze. “This. A… relationship.” I gaped. “Connor Thorne, are you blushing?” He groaned. “I should have known you wouldn’t make this easy.” My laugh was alarmingly close to a giggle. “I’m listening. Please explain.” Vulnerable green eyes met mine. “Though I’ve had companions in my lifetime, I’ve never had a partner. After Eleana… I honestly didn’t believe I’d find real love again. Then I met you.” Sober now, I nodded for him to continue. “I’m still learning how to be a partner—slowly, I now realize—and I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. I can only promise you I will keep trying, and trusting, and loving you.” There was only one response to give him, and I delivered it with my lips against his. When we finally broke apart, Cerberus yipped happily. I smiled. “Think Marcus will babysit him tonight?” The hound barked louder, recognizing the name of the Fae who fed him the best treats. Abruptly alone on the bed, I reeled against the pillows where a body had been. “Hey! Some warning next time!” Connor grinned from the doorway and beckoned to Cerberus, who glanced at me for permission. Trying to keep a straight face, I nodded. “Go ahead, buddy. We’ll see you in the morning.” Tail wagging, he followed Connor from the room. And when my love returned, I had no thoughts of the past or future for a long, long while.

Thank you for reading Tribulation! Turn the page for a preview of Revelation,

the sixth and final installment of the Ascension Series.

Revelation

Book Six of the Ascension Series

Chapter One

Far offshore, lightning danced on unseen waves. A writhing, searing display of plasma, a hundred or more bolts per second. Clouds hung low and dark above, audience and orchestra for the electric show with no natural origin. Thunder was a continuous roll that vibrated bones and teeth. South along the storm-swept coast lay the cliffside capital of Eamhna, rubble and melted rock now. Wind whipped past my ear, bringing the acrid tang of smoke from the east. I couldn’t hear the drumbeats and songs over the thunder, but I didn’t have to witness the death rites taking place—I felt them in my father’s storm and in the anguish of the man beside me. A man who’d lost his mother, his love, and the Sidhe that had been his home. I reached for Lucian’s hand. His fingers curled tightly around mine, hot and dry. This time, I was ready for the intense, cold-toes-in-hot-water sensation as plasma rose from our connection in glistening golden-white waves, swelling until we were cocooned in light. We were stoirm a rugadh. Stormborn. We walked toward the land’s edge, halting a few feet from the sheer drop to the sea below. The ground rumbled. Thunder boomed above us, answering the ionic disruption we wrought. “Are you sure?” I shouted. Lucian nodded, his eyes and skin aglow, white hair floating with static. I

squeezed his hand, then turned my attention to the ruins of the city, visible as a collapsed section of a cliff to the south, no more than dark juts of rock and debris. I gazed skyward, and the sky answered my call. Plasma funneled upward from our bodies, my power and Lucian’s bound to my will, blinding us and lighting the world. The atmosphere accepted our gift and returned it with a vein of raw power that struck the dark city, vaporizing the ruins and shearing off a huge swath of cliff. The clap of air that followed was deafening and numbing. We fell to our knees, the ground shaking beneath us, the coastline rippling as it reacted to the assault. The cliff beneath our knees began cracking, chunks disappearing into the darkness. Wings of starry power flared around us, lifting us back and away before depositing us a safe distance inland. I released Lucian’s hand, separating our auras, and sat back on my heels to relearn how to breathe. “Thank you,” I mumbled. Connor’s hand stroked down my spine. “Always, mo spréach.” Lucian said nothing, staring out to sea where the lightning still fell—the tears of Manannán mac Lir for hundreds of souls lost in the attack on the Sidhe’s capital. A soft nose nuzzled my arm, which I lifted. Cerberus snuggled close and licked the side of my face. “I’m okay, buddy.” He yipped softly and offered me an image I didn’t at first recognize—a snowdusted land beneath a night sky glowing with ribbons of light. Then I knew—it was Tír na Nóg he showed me. The pivotal next step of our journey. Somewhere in the largest, oldest Sidhe of the Fae was the way to Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life, and we needed to find it before Morrighan did. “It’s time,” murmured Connor. I nodded. We’d had our two days of rest.

The death rites would continue through the night, but the longer we lingered, the higher the chance we’d be confronted with uncomfortable goodbyes. Lucian finally stirred, turning from his vigil. “And Marcus?” he asked, before his gaze focused beyond us. Surprise flitted across his features and I turned. I stood up fast, staring at the Fae, who, along with two others, struggled to pull a giant, overloaded sled. “What the hell, Marcus?” Connor blurred, reappeared beside them, and waved them away. He lugged the sled easily with one hand while the Fae approached Lucian and me. The two women kept back as Marcus neared. I frowned. “I’ll ask again: what the hell, Marcus?” He shrugged, unapologetic. “When an Oracle and a talented healer demand to you in peril, you don’t say no.” I shifted my attention to the older of the two women. “No. You’re not coming.” Airmed, ancient Oracle and First Legacy Fae, returned my gaze unflinchingly and said nothing. Though I knew she had immense power, she also looked like a strong wind would break her. Beside her, the young healer Wyn wrung her hands. “Fiona,” murmured Lucian. “Perhaps it is their choice and not yours.” “We already discussed it,” I hissed back. “How are we supposed to stay unseen with two more people and Santa’s sleigh over there?” Marcus said, “While it’s been decades since I last set foot in Tír na Nóg, I doubt the land has turned tropical. Unless you can conjure shelter, warmth, and a fat goose every day, I’d rather not freeze and starve.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. He was right, of course. And I knew exactly why he’d kept his packing efforts under wraps. Because he knew me— specifically how I tended to run toward danger with little thought for my personal safety. Or, you know, little things like food, water, and appropriate

footwear. But this time, the stakes were the highest they’d ever been. The futures of both the Fae and the human race were at risk. “Fine.” I turned away from Marcus’ pleased face and gave the newcomers an overly bright smile. “Last chance to bail. No one will judge you.” They didn’t move. I sighed and glanced west, toward the ongoing lightning display. Cerberus stuck his big head under my hand, and I absentmindedly stroked the soft fur between his ears. Connor’s mind brushed against mine, soothing and cool. While the compagno bond was still broken, he remained a psychic powerhouse capable of breaching my intrinsic mental defenses. And I was glad of it. Nothing calmed me quite as much as his touch. His love. We’d overcome a lot, Connor and I. Despite obstacles both internal, magical, and physical, we’d chosen each other again and again. And if we survived this, maybe, just maybe, we’d have the future we both wanted. Quiet. Simple. Peaceful. But first we had to find the mythical Tree of Life, kill an insane, bloodthirsty goddess, and save multiple worlds from chaos. Easy-peasy.

Thank you!

Whew. That was a rollercoaster. Thank you for coming with me on this journey! Special thanks go to Dave, Jessica, Emily, and Jodie, and to YOU. We’ve made it this far, and the best is yet to come. The final installment of the series is underway and I’m loving how everything is wrapping up. Questions are answered, old friends (and enemies) return, and the stakes are the highest they’ve ever been! ::insert evil laugh:: For more information on the Ascension Series, please visit the FAQ page. If you have a question that isn’t answered, email me at [email protected] or drop me a line on Facebook. To stay on top of releases, my exclusive reader list. I adore you, Laura

Glossary of

THE FAE

Sidhes - Home to the Fae. Light Court, Shadow Court, and Blood Court. The Sidhes exist on a separate plane of reality from the human world, though travel between them is possible. The Light Court - Maghmael. The Western Sidhe. Commonly referred to as the White Court. Ruled by Morrighan, the White Queen. The population is comprised of healers, oracles, musicians, and those with affinity for plants and animals. The Shadow Court - Tír na Nóg in ancient Fae. The Northern Sidhe. Also referred to as the Black Court. Capital of the Fae kingdom before the mists separated the realm into three distinct Sidhes. Formerly ruled by King Finvar and Queen Aine, who vanished long ago. A land of starlight with no sun. Magical gifts lean toward the mind, i.e. illusions and psychological influence. The Blood Court - Eamhna in ancient Fae. The Eastern Sidhe. Also known as the Red Court. Smallest and most powerful of the Sidhes. Ruled by Manannán mac Lir, the Red King. Population is known for its elemental bloodlines and powers over earth, air, fire, and water. lóstran - Rare elemental power of magma. lóstre - Rare elemental power of plasma.

stoirm a rugadh - “Stormborn.” Refers to those with the gift of lóstre. sanguis - Blood magic. Also known as ichor, blood of forgotten gods. Among the Fae, the sanguis bloodline was thought extinct. mórgacht - Fae term for “majesty,” used in reference to a Fae of royal blood. Shadowlands - The unknown realm traversed when Fae shadow-walk within a Sidhe. Used to cover great distances in a short time. If one becomes distracted while shadow-walking, they are lost forever to the Shadowlands. changeling/halfling - half-human, half-Fae domhan - Realm of shared dreams. The Mist - Border between Sidhes. Whatever or whoever enters the Mists is gone forever. First Legacy Fae - The original and oldest of the Fae, who lived alongside the Mother Danu and Father Dagdha at the dawn of the species. Key Players: Morrighan, Manannán mac Lir, Finvar, Aine, Oghma, Delbáeth, Airmed, and Lugh.

OTHER

mo spréach - “my spark”

compagno bond - Sacred bond between a master vampire and their human companion. May only be severed through death. The Conclave - ancient vampire council. The Primes - Ancient vampires who oversee supernaturals within four territories of the United States. They rule in a triumvirate with an Omega (an Opal mage) and an Alpha (an alpha shifter), and answer directly to the president. Western Prime - Connor Thorne Southern Prime - Ian Kilpatrick Midwestern Prime - Janelle Olivier Northeastern Prime - Daniel Engström Mage Ranks - (from weakest to most powerful) Topaz, Amber, Ruby, Emerald, Sapphire, Opal. Details of note: mages beneath Sapphire need tools and rituals to perform magic. Opals are the only mages capable of magic with only a thought — and historically it drives them mad.

For a complete compilation of characters and , visit authorlaurahall.com

Also by Laura Hall

The Ascension Series

Ascension

Reckoning

Unraveling

Rebirth

Tribulation

Revelation*

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About the Author

Laura Hall is the alter-ego of contemporary romance author, L.M. Halloran. When not writing or reading, the author can be found gardening barefoot or chasing her spirited daughter. Some of her favorite things are puzzles, podcasts, and small dogs that resemble Ewoks. Home is Portland, Oregon.

[email protected] authorlaurahall.com