Page 58 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“We can organise the leaving,” Grant says when Lark opens his mouth, and Lark nods. Yeah, probably best to leave Oisin out of that part.

Lark stands, which is our cue to go, and I might be a little mad at Ophelia still, but I don’t want to leave her behind. I pull her into a hug, which she returns tightly.

“You’re sure it’ll be okay?” I whisper. I don’t care that Oisin can hear us. I know Grant has us covered.

“I’m sure,” she replies. “I just want to go home. We’ll go home tomorrow.”

I lean back and nod. “Yeah. Tomorrow. Probably just enough time for your dad to have murdered Felix, too.”

Her eyes widen, and then she laughs, and the heaviness weighing on my heart gets a little lighter. She hugs me again, and when she pulls back, her eyes are wet, but at least I’m sure she’s going to be okay.

Grant hugs her too before we leave, and whatever he whispers is lower and has Oisin frowning in their direction. I try not to look when the door closes behind us. I’m sure she’ll be safe. I’d know if she were lying.

“I tied some of my magic to her,” Grant says when we’re nearing Lark’s rooms. “I told her. If anything does happen…”

He’ll feel it. I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Grant shrugs, then nudges his shoulder against mine. “You okay with where you’re staying tonight?”

Lark is only a few paces ahead. His shoulders tense. I roll my eyes.

“It’s fine.”

“Okay. You can shout. I’m not as far away.”

With that, he gives me a wave and carries on to his rooms. Lark opens the door and ushers me inside. I stand in the centre of the sitting room for a few seconds, trying to wrap my head around everything.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll be back home, with our pack, with our families, and Lark will be…

Here.

I turn, but he’s already in the bedroom; light spills out and I hear him moving around. I wrap my arms around my middle.

I don’t want to leave him here, but I don’t know what I can do to stop it.

Chapter Seventeen

Lark

Zomo holds the garden party early in the afternoon the next day. I am hardly surprised by the turnout. The castle gardens are usually not even open to many fae who sit on the court, and the prospect of visiting them, alone, will have tempted some of those who would have otherwise not attended.

Dante and I hardly spoke after returning to my rooms last night, but I do not believe he slept much, if at all. I know I did not.

I don’t want you to stay.

Of course, that is not what I want either. Even in a perfect world, he would have to visit the Guardians every time he wished to cross the veil; he does not have the power to cut through alone. Every second here, too, shows me how little he would be accepted. And while a bond with Oisin may not preclude me from cementing my soulbond with Dante, it would be viewed poorly.

With my connection to Oisin, to the crowns, I am not entirely convinced it would be safe for him, either.

It is better they leave tonight. That he returns home and, one day, forgets all about me. It will be a painful thing to accept, but it is for the best. It has to be.

He trails a few steps behind me as we descend into the gardens. They are not manicured or tamed as I would expect to see in the human realm. No, here the plants roam freely, creating their own delightful landscape, and when I breathe in the scent of honeysuckle and lavender, it is the first time something feels like home.

“This is… a lot,” Grant mutters. He is dressed more simply than last night, in a coral tunic and deep green trousers, his glamour firmly in place. No one will know he is not a selkie. “Nice, though.”

Dante huffs, and when I look at him, his eyes are amused. His gaze lingers on the hedge maze in the distance. It is not somewhere I would advise he goes. The maze is known to change at will, branches shifting to trap unsuspecting fae inside.

Of course, we can coax our way out again. He cannot.