Page 21 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

Chapter Eight

Dante

Itrail behind Lark, trying to ignore the constant pounding of my heart in my chest. Am I angry? Yeah, I think so. But the anger is buried under layers of hurt and disappointment and other dark, ugly feelings that I’ve always done my best to keep to myself.

Grant lingers by my side. Well, I think he’s lingering—he’s a vampire, after all; he could keep up with Lark easily. The magic really has done a number on him, I think. We’ve been walking for an hour or so, but he’s still squinting, and every so often, he winces.

“I could try to heal you,” I murmur. I’m not very good at it. But we’re in the middle of a pine forest, and while I don’t have the time to make a tincture or anything like that, I can at least draw on the spirit of the thing.

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Grant says. He flashes me a smile, and he means it, even if it makes him wince again. “Fuck. I’m sure I didn’t complain this much about hangovers before. And Vlad’s not even here to try to make me feel better…”

He pouts, and I huff in amusement. Ahead of us, Lark’s shoulders stiffen for a second. Grant catches the movement, of course, because he’s watching Lark just as closely as I am, albeit for different reasons.

“What happened?” he mumbles. “While I was out?”

I shake my head. I can’t say it. Maybe I was still clinging onto some semblance of hope, even though the emotionless way he said I’m his soulbond back at the base wasn’t particularly enthusiastic.

And I trapped him a little bit. I know that. But wanting to get to know me, waiting around and never leaving his café and never even trying to involve himself in my life… He doesn’t want to get to know me. Maybe the bond made him want to stay close, but I don’t think he likes me, never mind—

“What a dick,” Grant says, a little louder this time.

I shove him, only gently, because there’s no way Lark didn’t hear that, though he doesn’t miss a step. “Grant…”

“They can be,” Grant replies with a shrug. “Vlad was a dick about it, too, but at least he got over it when I did. I mean, I wasn’t any better. And you—”

He cuts himself off, but my face heats all the same. I’ve been pining after Lark for years. Everyone knows that. Lark has to know that. I don’t think the fact that he can’t lie means that he can’t read that from my behaviour.

Anger rises in my throat, but I shove it back down. We don’t have time for that any more than we have time to chat or time to waste. Ophelia is my friend. She didn’t watch me from a distance and not bother learning anything about me; she came up to me on my first gloomy day of school in a grey, distant country and gave me no choice but to be her friend.

The thought makes my lips quirk. We’ll get her back, though I won’t be surprised if she’s started a small revolution in the meantime.

All in all, the Otherworld is so far… underwhelming. Aside from the press of magic, I mean, but these pine trees are pine trees, and as the shadows around us deepen, the air cools and it feels a lot like home.

Grant sticks even closer as night falls. Good thing, too. I don’t want to use my phone to light the way, and though the moon rises brightly above us, I’m still in danger of tripping at any moment.

I don’t know how long passes before Lark slows. “We are in the heart of her territory now,” he says, voice hushed.

“Is that dangerous?” Grant asks. “You’re saying that like it’s dangerous.”

“Perhaps.”

I look in Grant’s direction. Maybe he understands better than I do; he definitely knows more fae, even with all the ones who’ve joined our pack of late.

“She can be fickle,” Lark elaborates when neither of us asks. “I believe she is interested in a conversation, but she may not grant what I wish for.”

My stomach drops. “She might not give your magic back?”

“I gave it to her to do with as she wished. I never intended to ask for it back.”

“Fuck. You couldn’t have told us this earlier?” My magic twists up inside me. It won’t do anything, but if I get agitated enough, it will react, just like my temper. “We should have been planning the entire time. What are our options if you don’t have any more magic at the end of this?”

“We will still go to the court,” Lark says.

“Without your magic?” I can’t see Grant’s raised eyebrow, but I’m sure I can hear it. “They’ll eat you alive.”

Lark snorts but doesn’t dispute the comment. Now I feel sick. Great. Sam should have come instead of me. We could have talked Cassian round, surely. He looked guilty—Sam could have guilted him into it.

Lark stops. I almost walk into the back of him, and when I raise my hands to keep my balance, he catches one of my wrists and holds on tight.