Page 45 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“And Iagan?”

“Iagan…” Lark stares off into the distance for a moment, then lets out a faint laugh. “I am not convinced he knew of the greenhouse at all, except he is so obsessed with knowledge that it is impossible for it to have slipped his awareness. I suppose he did not care. He values the opinions of other fae even less than I do.”

I’ve only seen Iagan once, when he came to the would-be challenge between Quinn and the vampire Augustine. A high fae attacked, and the Hunt subdued him, and Iagan came to take that fae away and to give Maurice, another member of the Hunt, his powers back.

Considering all the people who were in that room—the vampire crai and chieftains, plenty of wolf alphas, including Deacon himself—Iagan walked in like he owned it. He didn’t even hesitate.

Then another thought sours my mood. “You’ll have to care now, won’t you?”

“To an extent, I suppose.” Lark rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “Though they are desperate. The schemes we have seen in London… they will have been nothing on what has been happening here. I expect I will recognise only a fraction of the faces in attendance tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“The fae of the Unseelie court will be there. If they are feeling generous, they will have invited some Seelie fae they consider respectable, and of course, there will be other Unseelie who are not members of the court, but who are respected or powerful in their own right. Many of these fae will likely have already fought to wear the crowns. The crowns will have drained some, and others will have been killed or exiled to keep them from that power.”

“Doesn’t sound like power,” I mutter, and Lark looks at me sharply.

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds… like a cage. The crowns don’t make you more powerful; they’re taking magic from you.”

Lark nods. “You are right,” he says, and the smile he offers me is humourless. “But best not to let them know. Wearing the crowns has given those fae power because they are keeping this realm alive and that is to be respected. Now, I fear, some may have realised the same as you. Trapping a powerful fae here might be their next move.”

My stomach twists and I swallow hard. “Or trapping their soulbond, if they’re worried the fae they need will run back to the life they made in another realm.”

“That, too.”

I sigh. Lark reaches over slowly, like he thinks I might panic and run away. When his hand wraps around mine, my heart beats a little faster.

Why couldn’t we have had this all along? That’s what has me angry. Angry at myself as well as him, because I thought saying something would be foolish, that he was so far out of my league that it was laughable and now…

Well, I’m still pretty sure he’s out of my league. I don’t think fae princes usually wind up with guys like me.

“Why didn’t you want me to kiss you this afternoon?” Lark asks, and my mind shuts down.

“I, uh…”

“I wanted to,” he says. “I want to.”

We can’t. That’s my first instinct, the words almost leaping from my mouth of their own accord. Except, we could.

But then I’d want more. I’d know what it was like to kiss Lark, and I wouldn’t be able to leave him behind.

My throat tightens. I shake my head but don’t let go of his hand.

“I-I can’t.”

“Can’t.” Lark’s voice is flat.

“I don’t—It’s not—” A frustrated sound tears itself from my throat and I make myself meet his gaze. “I want to, too.”

It’s hard to read his eyes when he’s not wearing a glamour. They’re black from corner to corner, but he tilts his head just slightly, and it feels like his gaze becomes more intent. Goosebumps erupt over my skin. I want him. That’s hardly a surprise, but the intensity of it is.

“You believe it would be a bad idea.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”