“A lie.”
“You people would be the worst to play poker with.”
“Bran?” Cillian asked. “How did you survive the attack at the Shoppe?”
Bran grimaced. “Jupiter came with dozens of ravens and crows to distract the lights. But the Fae lord left, I think, because he got what he wanted. He got Aisling.”
“And why would he want your sister?” Niamh asked.
“She’s part of my coven. You Fae seem pretty insistent on eradicating us whether we have magic or not.”
“The same can be said of you witches when it comes to us Fae” was Niamh’s cool response. “If a Fae took your sister, then she is most likely dead.”
“Hey,” Cillian snapped. “Until we know for sure, we’re still going to search for her. That’s why we came here.”
Niamh stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head. “You came for a witch and not for your people.”
“I think we’ll all be a lot better off if you and everyone else quit acting like you know me when you don’t.”
“But I do. Or I did.” Niamh smiled, the twist to her lips this time almost mournful. “You should rest. I will fetch you something to eat.”
She inclined her head to him and left the small room, closing the door behind her. Cillian sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes, still so tired and sick to his stomach. “Please tell me this is some terrible dream and I’ll wake up.”
“I wish I could,” Bran said, pushing himself off the bed. Cillian opened his eyes, watching as the other man stretched his arms over his head, the coat riding up even if his shirt didn’t. A pity. “I can’t get us off this ship.”
“Where are we heading?”
“To Tech Duinn, the Winter Court’s land. It holds territory in the northern part of the country. Niamh said she wasn’t taking us to the capital there, though.”
“How did we even get here?”
Bran tilted his head a little, bruised face difficult to look away from. Cillian had the furious, riotous urge to rend Ainmire limb from limb for touching Bran. “The Wild Hunt stole us from the carriage. Ainmire couldn’t stop the spirits. Apparently, you’re their master.”
“What?” Cillian shook his head. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“They’re spirits. They hunt wayward travelers, and I guess they found us. Niamh says they obey you. I was surprised about that.” His gaze lingered on Cillian. “I was surprised about a lot of things.”
Cillian’s hands curled into fists as he held Bran’s gaze. “I’m still me. You have to believe that.”
“I do,” Bran said after a moment. “You may look Fae, but at least you don’t call me pet.”
Maybe he meant it as a joke, but it fell flat between them. Cillian grimaced, lifting a hand and waving for Bran to come closer. He did, sitting back down on the bed, letting Cillian hold his hand like a lifeline. “I won’t be like them. I refuse.”
“You got your body back. What happens if you get your memories back and you lose the person you are now?” Bran’s eyes stared at him intently, something like fear in them. “Would you even want me alive? Ainmire said the Winter Court kept witches as pets like he did.”
“They what?”
Bran looked away, fingernails digging into Cillian’s skin before he realized what he was doing and stopped. Cillian hadn’t minded the prick of pain. “The Fae keep witches and mortals as pets. Servants. Slaves. Take your pick. There was this witch in Ainmire’s home, tending to the lamps with magic. She never acknowledged me, was just…this blank shell of a person. I don’t ever want to be that.”
Cillian leaned forward, all his discomfort falling away amid a cold-burning fury. “Is that what that bastard wanted to do with you?”
Bran’s eyes widened, and Cillian followed his gaze, startling badly at the appearance of ice on the floor beneath the other man’s boots. It radiated a coolness the same way the ice in the cell had. He let Bran go, slumping against the pillow, and stared at Bran.
“Well.” Bran swallowed loudly, still looking at the ice. “I can definitely say that was you andnot me.”
“I don’t—I didn’t?—”
He cut off as Niamh came back into the room, a tray of food in hand. She paused in the doorway, eyeing the ice on the floor. Her gaze brightened at the sight, and she shot Cillian a pleased look. “Your magic wasn’t damaged after all.”
