Page 78 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“We will return to the castle first,” he replies.

Zomo’s eyes widen. “You… will?”

“We will,” I confirm. My voice comes out hoarse, as though I have been screaming. The pain from before is gone, but what remains is a dull ache that I feel down to my bones. “We will join you later this afternoon. Our new bond needs some time to settle.”

It is not a lie, even if it is not the true reason for our delay. Zomo does not appear to read it from my face, but I believe Veles does.

He nods and moves closer to Zomo. “Come. We can ensure all is ready for the fae to greet their new kings.”

He sweeps her away and Oisin holds me upright as we journey back up to the castle. None of the fae still remaining look at us for too long as we pass. They duck their heads, bow, curtsey—they do not look us in the eyes. They can feel our new power just as well as I can.

Oisin directs us to my rooms, and I all but collapse onto the sofa. He frowns and drops into one of the armchairs. “I do not understand.”

“Neither do—” I choke on the words. Iron sizzles on my tongue, and Oisin’s gaze sharpens.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Lark.”

I swallow hard. It cannot be this, because my belief in it has always been—I have always seen through it, haven’t I? Perhaps not.

“Go through the door over there,” I say, pointing at the greenhouse. Dante did not uncover the truth, too naïve to the ways of the fae, which is no one’s fault but my own.

Grant would have. Grant would have asked me about it. Grant would have drawn me away from here, and I would have lost Dante in an instant.

Oisin opens the greenhouse door and walks inside. He does not make a sound, except for his near-silent footsteps, which round the entire room before he walks out again.

“Your parents never said.”

“Why would they?”

“But that—You’re their son.”

Both of them. “Of course.” As if either of them would have had it any other way. They were soulbonded even before they wore the crowns.

“Then how…” He sits in the armchair again and for a few seconds, he stares blankly into the distance. I wait for him to gather himself. It is not something I have spoken aloud before. My mother forbade it. Even Ronan never went that far, though the curse of it was evident in every sharp word he directed my way.

Oisin blinks, coming back to himself. He bares sharp teeth.

“How did two Unseelie fae have a Seelie son?”

The words settle heavily in the centre of the room. I swallow down a sharp spike of panic. The truth is there. Unavoidable, perhaps.

“I am not certain,” I say. “But I am not certain, either, that Aodhan does not know.”

“He might know?” Oisin rubs a hand over his face. “You should have told me before we did the ceremony. Before we…” Gingerly, he touches the crown he is still wearing.

“I know that,” I bite out, “but being Seelie or not has nothing to do with what just happened. My parents were both Unseelie and they both wore crowns. You are Seelie. Why was the ceremony only painful for me?”

Oisin nods, still frowning. “Not a bad question,” he muses. “I feel fine. Irritated, but fine.”

I sigh and tip my head back. The crown slides, heavy, and I take it off and put it on the cushion next to me. “It is likely due to my magic just returning,” I say. “We will go to the celebrations tonight. Everything will be fine.”

Oisin eyes me sceptically. “If you say so. And Aodhan…?”

“I will have you put up in Ronan’s rooms, if you have no objections?” When Oisin shakes his head, I continue, “Make sure to ward them well. I do not trust my uncle either. We are safer now than we were yesterday, but he is cunning, and if he is to strike, it may well be when everyone believes the worst is over.”