“It isn’t our sun. It won’t affect us the way it does back home.”
Westlyn folds her arms across her chest and leans against the doorframe, scrutinizing me. “You have a plan, then?”
Damn it.
I didnotwant to get into this with her tonight, but… “Yes.”
“Care to enlighten me? Preferably with something other than a grunt and a one-word answer?”
Biting back a sarcastic retort, I say firmly, “You and the others will hunker down here. Eat some more food, drink some more ale. Warm yourselves by the fire and get some rest. Tomorrow, you’ll—”
“And where willyoube while we’re all having this Christmas-card-worthy gathering?”
“I’ll be… taking care of Verrick.”
“Oh!” Westlyn laughs. “In that case, please. Continue. You were saying?”
I glare at her.
“Tomorrow,” I repeat, “you’ll put your heads together and figure out how to open another portal, and by the time I return, we can—”
“Put our heads together. Right.” She lets out a laugh like the bitterest wind, but the tears glazing her eyes are borne of nothing but grief. “You knowdamnwell which one of us would’ve figured it out. Rook. Rook Van Doren. But he can’t. Why? Because he’s locked in stone. A thing that could happen to any one of the rest of you, at any moment, without warning.”
“Which is why I need to go, Westlyn. Can’t you see that?”
“Go where? We’re in the middle of nowhere, dead of winter. Dead of everything.”
“I need to find Verrick’s castle, where he’s very likely hiding, licking his wounds. The sooner I take him out, the sooner we—”
“Take himout? Draegan. The king of Wintermoon isn’t some petty criminal you can intimidate with a wave of your gun and a few salacious photos. You’re talking about the monster who tricked me into burning down Rook’s library and bringing him to the earthly realm. The monster who doubled-crossed a prince of hell. The monster who cursed you. Who slaughtered your family and probably spent the last fifteen centuries dreaming up ways to torture you and—”
“I knowdamnwell who I’m talking about, far better than you, so unless you’ve got something constructive to add to this conversation, you’re wasting my time.”
Anger chases the grief from her eyes, but she doesn’t rise to my cruel bait. Not tonight.
Guilt, my old friend, gnaws at my insides, and for a long time, we just glare at each other in the moonlight.
I would give anything to know what she’s thinking, but I can’t bring myself to ask.
I haven’t earned the right.
“Celine Forsythe is dead,” I finally say, my voice soft in the dim space.
Westlyn gasps, a look of true surprise in her gaze. “I saw you go after her, but then I lost track.”
“She managed to escape me in the chaos, but I grabbed her again just before the portal spell surged. Her magic was tapped out, and she opened her mouth to… I don’t know. Beg for her life? Offer some dark bargain? I didn’t give her the chance. I ripped open her throat, then bashed her fucking head against the wall. It was gruesome and terrible and I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.”
I step away from the window, crossing the room until I’m standing so close to her she has to tip her head back to meet my eyes, and that face—that lovely, heartbreaking face that’s etched so deeply into my memory—suddenly unleashes a rage inside me so complete, I see only blood and fire.
“I didn’t fuckinghesitateto destroy her, Westlyn, because on your first night at Blackmoor I made a vow that I would take downallof your enemies. That counts doubly now for the dark-fae king who’s already made demands for your surrender tonight. So no, I willnotremain here and warm idle hands by the fire while he plots his next attack and you are still a target and this nightmarefuckingrealm is—”
“You don’t think we all feel that way?” she snaps, jabbing a finger into my chest. “No one wants to sit around with our thumbs up our asses, Drae. We want to fight. And wewillfight, but we need to do it together. None of us is strong enough to take him down alone. Not even you. I don’t care what you—”
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can say to talk me out of this. I’m leaving.”
She huffs out a breath and takes a few steps back, the cold rushing in to fill the space. “So that’s how it is, then?”
“That’s how it is.”
