Page 53 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“And he has met Iagan?”

“On occasion. Your brother does not frequent the court.”

No, he does not. Which means he had to be here for some reason, or he has visited our uncle.

Or he is developing his own schemes. I would never put it past him to do that.

“Thank you for your work tonight. It has not gone unnoticed.”

Zomo’s gaze softens. “It may not be as terrible here as you feared.”

I do not reply to that. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I will not know until it happens, and right now, that is hardly my concern. I steer Dante out of the ballroom, my hand on his lower back the way I wished for earlier, and he stays close even once we are out of sight of the rest of the fae.

“Do you think he’ll let her go?” Dante whispers. We are almost back at my rooms; the room Oisin is in is not far away.

“It matters not. She is not to remain here. Neither are you.”

“I’m not?”

I stop still. “You would wish to?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Dante says. He sighs. “It feels like we wasted a lot of time.”

We did not. I did. I could have approached him at any time, but I assumed I had more than turned out to be the case.

All I can do is nod, and when we reach my rooms, Grant is already coming out the door, practically vibrating in anticipation. “You know where to go?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. I do not break my stride and lead them further down the corridor, then around and through to where Zomo has sent Oisin to stay.

He has set his own wards around the room, which surprises me only for a second. They are likely not for him. He will not risk another claiming credit for what he did. I pause before I knock on the door and look at Grant.

“If necessary…”

He nods. Dante frowns at us both. It is not that I do not believe he could escape alone; Grant is powerful and currently vastly underestimated.

I knock on the door. Footsteps approach, and when it swings open, Oisin is standing there, his shirt half unbuttoned and hair mussed as though he has been running his hands through it. He looks at the three of us, gaze lingering questioningly on Grant. I do not offer an explanation.

“Well, I suppose you had better come inside.”

He steps back to let us in, and the wards vibrate as we cross the threshold. Dante moves further into the sitting room once we are inside. His impatience is palpable.

“Where is she?” I ask.

Oisin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “You care an awful lot for a witch we both know is not your soulbond.”

I tense, but Dante does not even seem to notice. Grant sets his jaw, reminding me uncomfortably of the brief confrontation we had back at the Wild Hunt’s base.

“She’s in the bedroom,” he says.

Oisin shoots him a quick, startled look, but Dante is already moving. Oisin’s magic flares, but mine is faster, and Grant is faster still. He shoves Oisin up against the wall, holding him in place with a hand around his throat. A growl rumbles through his chest, eyes faintly glowing.

“Stay,” he snarls.

Dante reaches the bedroom door, but it opens before he can touch the handle. Ophelia blinks at him, surprised, before her expression crumples and she throws her arms around him. Dante pulls her close, stroking one hand up and down her back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’re gonna take you home.”

Chapter Sixteen