Page 8 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“They are incorrect,” I say. “They believe they have taken my soulbond, but they have not.”

“Do the pack know she’s missing?” Jeremiah asks. I do not ask how he knows who the fae have taken. He spends time with Dante’s pack, and especially with Drew. Drew has come to his own conclusions, but that does not mean they are false ones.

“I am not certain,” I say. “I want to cross over to get her back.”

“But you—” Grant snaps his mouth shut when we all look at him. His cheeks redden.

“I what?” I ask. My voice is icy.

“You do not have the power to get her back, I would imagine,” Vladimir says. His tone is lazy, but his eyes are piercing when I meet his gaze. Grant squirms in his seat as though he wishes to get away from all of us. “If you truly have no magic—”

“I can retrieve it,” I growl. Even if that damns me to a position I never sought, I will do it if it ensures Dante’s safety. At some point, those fae will conclude that they stole the wrong witch. He is not safe, not even behind a mage’s wards. “I will send her back. I merely need help with the crossing.”

Vladimir sighs. “I need to make a call,” he says, and I curl my hands into fists, anger washing through me. This is… demeaning. I am not even human, and this would be weak if I were. I should not need permission to return to the realm that is, ostensibly, my home. I should not require assistance to cross back over, not when I am already here.

But I do. Jeremiah is on his feet too, pacing, and Paxton watches me in the same manner he did when we both entered the room earlier.

“Does he know?” he asks finally, and Jeremiah stops mid-step, glancing between us.

I do not need to ask him who he means. What he means. I taste acid, as though I have touched iron. “No.”

“You were waiting?”

“Yes.”

He nods. I do not know if he understands, but Jeremiah acts as though he does not, despite the fact that he and Vladimir should understand better than most.

All fae have a soulbond. We deal in bonds, often fleeting, temporary, used to give us the advantage when the need arises. A soulbond is different. We are born with them. One, perhaps two, and they are not always romantic—I have seen strong platonic or familial soulbonds among other fae.

They are not limited to other fae, either. Rare it might be, but a bond can exist between a fae and another type of magical creature, though they primarily manifest between various species of fae.

Fae and human soulbonds are rare. Rarer still is what happened to the three of us. Three brothers. Three high fae—royal high fae. Three fae-human soulbonds.

Fate has a sense of humour. I feel as though she mocks me with it.

Of course, I was the last to cross over. It takes time for the bond to develop, and when I first came to the human realm, Dante was already twenty. I made the trip a few times over the next few years, and when he moved to London for good, settling with Ophelia and Sam, I made my decision. I cast off my past. I cast off the role I had never been moulded for.

I abandoned everything, and I decided to wait. Why would I not? If he accepted the bond, then we would have an endless lifetime ahead of us. I have already had centuries, and he deserves that time to discover who he truly is.

Some of that time. But ten years is nothing, and I know he needs more than that.

Vladimir comes back into the room. “I called Maurice,” he says. “I would rather we take you tonight. The Guardians cannot leave right now, and if fae have already taken Ophelia…” He trails off.

I nod, although I do not like it. Only Paxton can leave during the day—though Grant appears unaffected by the sun, I do not know how far that extends—and he is right; I would be putting him in danger travelling just the two of us.

“How far are they?” I ask.

“Three hours or so,” Jeremiah says. “Northwest of here. Fuck, we’ll have to get a car.”

“I can—” Vladimir cuts himself off when someone hammers on the door.

His and Paxton’s gazes both swing to Grant, who holds up his hands in supplication.

“Grant,” Vladimir growls.

“They should know,” Grant says almost petulantly. He crosses his arms over his chest. “They’re basically working with us now anyway.”

Vladimir sighs and goes to answer the door. Paxton shakes his head, but he wears a soft smile at the same time. “Didn’t even see you send a message.”