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She violently twists in my arms, splashes, and pierces me with frightened golden eyes. So afraid she can’t speak. Her free hand claws at me, trying to climb outoverme.
“I’m here,” I clamp down and squeeze, trying to blanket her body with my arms. It’s a stupid notion. But I want to cocoon her with me, not with water. I hold her gaze and murmur, “I’m not leaving. I’m here.”
I feel the moment she decides to trust me. It’s a click against my soul. A burning between the ribs.
“You won’t leave?” she chokes.
“Never.”
“Won’t let go?”
“Not while we’re in here.”
Sighing, she sinks into me and mumbles something delirious about her warm blanket.
The silence in the bathroom is deafening. I know they’re all watching me, wondering who the fuck I am to behave like this.
“She’ll live,” Cricket says, dusting her nightgown. “When her color returns, put her in your bed all snug. I’ll bring warm cocoa.”
“Whiskey,” Finch grunts.
“I think she’s had enough grog, love.” Cricket pats his chest. “But we can have it on standby.”
After the mortals leave, I want to bask in the warmth, my arms around Willow, and listen to her pulse grow strong. Legion sours the mood when he perches on the tub’s stone edge, long graceful legs dominating the space. Bodin rests against the wall, folds his muscular arms, and stares at me. Varen remains in the doorway. They are half-starved, and here I am, filled to the brim with sustenance, soaking in the tub.
“What happened?” Legion’s demand is curt and sharp.
“Has Emrys arrived?” I return, finding myself too cowardly to relay the night’s events alone.
“Not yet,” he replies. “Does he need to be?”
Willow knows about Styx, I want to say. But what comes out is, “I have fed.”
Their eyes widen. Hunger peers out.
As if knowing his fate, the soul inside me stirs and buzzes against his cage. Legion’s head cants, almost as if he hears. I watch him, waiting to see if he recognizes or feels what I do. But our hive state is nowhere to be found. Just another whisper on the wind of time.
I thought if anything were to push through that barrier, it would be the soul swarming inside me. The Wild Hunt can grow enormous because of our hive’s joint custody of the horde. Other dragon-bonded are mere echoes of us, inferior copies they created after our unit grew too powerful to tame. To avoid making the same mistake, they distributed power among many.
Divide and conqueris Titania’s favorite motto.
“Who?” Legion asks.
“All of Milford . . . and a mortal snack.”
He stands, schools his face to something unreadable, and nods toward Varen. “Give him the snack and the complete soul to the wildling.”
I sigh. “Emrys said the same thing, but we cannot retain sustenance from the Wild Hunt until he can live inside us.”
For that, we need the hive state.
“Then we are in agreement.” Legion gestures at Bodin. “Let’s go.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I growl. “I can split the soul—carve him up for each of you. Denying your hunger isn’t helping.” I squeeze Willow, then sigh as the truth dawns on me. In my shame, I’ve tried to ignore our baser instincts. I’ve kept my feeding to tiny morsels, thinking that made me less of a monster. But my brothers need more. “Midnight adventures are no longer tenable. Tomorrow, I will embrace the hunt.”
“No,” Legion replies, eyes hardening. “Your meal already puts Styx in danger. If more High Fae disappear, the Keepers will know it’s us. To gain this much power from mortal souls, you will leave a trail of unexplained disappearances and husks. We have enough to worry about with the Wild Hunt being exposed.”
Bodin adds, “They already fabricate disasters so we must leave the keep. It won’t be long before they’re foolish enough to infiltrate and kill the wildling.”
