“So that’s it, then,” I said. “Stay here, or start a new life as the Prince of Hell’s magical plaything.”
Liam had the good sense not to try to soften the harsh reality of that situation. “If you need time to consider this, I can come back—”
“Oh, I’ve already made my choice, Liam. But you were wrong about one thing.”
“I was wrong about a great many things.”
“I’m talking about the part where you said this would be the last choice I’d ever be allowed to make.” I opened my eyes and glared at him. “Iguaranteeyou it won’t be.”
Liam said nothing, but his lips held the hint of the same smile I’d caught in the Shadowrealm after I told him I wasn’t giving up hope—that I’d find a way out of there, no matter how impossible it seemed.
“So what have you decided, then?” he finally asked.
I tipped my head back and looked up at the sky, gazing across the spray of red stars. They were beautiful, yet eerie. Not home. Not true.
I took a deep breath, calling up the magic from deep inside. It answered immediately, swirling in my chest, buzzing through my nerves, across my skin, into my blood, right down to my very bones. I might not be able to use it here in Hell, but this magic was a part of me, something even Sebastian couldn’t take away.
I was done running from him. Done prolonging the inevitable. It was time to meet my so-called master and let him know exactly what I thought ofthatlittle arrangement.
Lowering my face once again, I met Liam’s intense gaze with my own brand of ferocity. He flinched in surprise, and I let out a laugh.
Then, with a smile on my face and all that beautiful, dark, incredibly powerful magic racing around inside me, I made my choice.
“Burn it, Liam.”
Nine
Emilio
“All non-fae travel has been restricted,” Jael said, helping himself to a second serving of Elena’scanelones de espinaca. “Communications into and out of the Bay are glamoured. I’d advise you not to trust any reports you receive from your men or anyone else in town, and don’t bother trying to warn them, either. They won’t receive your messages as you intended.”
I pushed my own plate away, my worries about the situation back home killing the last of my appetite. “They can do that? Glamour cell phone conversations?”
“Cell phones, texts, emails, handwritten letters, telegraphs, photos, websites, on and on. Anything can be glamoured to seem like something else, especially when the targets don’t realize they’re being targeted.”
“So coordinating a rescue from inside the city is out,” Elena said. “We’ll have to get in, but you say they’re restricting travel. Is there a way to get close, sneak in below their radar? Maybe send in undercovers?”
“You won’t get within fifty miles of the Bay,” he said. “You’ll drive your normal roads, of course, but then you’ll suddenly forget to make the turn. Or you’ll make the turn, only to end up right back where you began. Or you’ll swear you left for the Bay hours ago, only to find yourself in the bathtub enjoying a good soak. Fae glamour has many facets.”
Did we stand a chance? Darkwinter seemed to have the advantage at every turn. And they had the Council’s backing, besides.
What a mess.
“How did this even happen?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else, but Jael answered anyway.
“My sense is that Darkwinter and their allies have been planning this for some time, Talia’s involvement notwithstanding. Recent conditions in the Bay have made the city ripe for such a takeover.”
“How so?” Elena asked.
“The Bay was already in a state of chaos,” Jael said. “After word spread of the rash of violence against witches, many of the others began to flee.”
“It was safer for them to go,” I said defensively, thinking of Gray and Haley. Of Reva. If they’d gotten out earlier, maybe they’d be safe now, too. Maybe Gray wouldn’t be trapped in the Shadowrealm with a madman bent on killing her, and Reva and Haley wouldn’t be locked in that awful prison. “What would you have them do instead? Wait around to be caught by a hunter? To be carved up and experimented on, slaughtered in their own beds?”
Jael finally set down his fork, deep pain flashing in his eyes.
Too late, I realized my mistake.
He’d lost someone he loved in exactly the way I’d so gracelessly described.
