Page 85 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“No.”

He frowns when I don’t elaborate. I suppose he expects he is entitled to such knowledge now that we are bonded, but there are some things I do not wish to share right now.

“Fine,” he says with a huff. “What do we do?”

“My parents were both Unseelie and they wore the crowns well enough. We will be—” I cannot force the next word out. Oisin growls.

“You felt the tree just as well as I did. And it almost killed you.”

“I would not have died.”

“You are hurting still now.” Oisin’s gaze sears through me. “How long do you truly believe you can endure this?”

“I do not know,” I admit when it is clear he will wait stubbornly for an answer. “Weeks. Perhaps.”

Oisin exhales heavily through his nose and turns his face to the window. He must be at least reasonably calculating to have ended up in my uncle’s orbit, and I wonder what he is calculating now. Who might take my place, most likely.

“Why do you believe this has happened?” he asks.

“I do not know that either. I am staying here to fulfil my fate. If I do not…” I do not want to tell him of the bargain I made with the witch, but I have little choice. “If I do not, then Dante will die.”

Oisin’s eyes widen. “That is the deal you struck?”

“Yes.”

“So you must remain here, even if it kills you?”

“Yes.”

“And you did not…” He frowns again, pursing his lips in thought. “What was the wording of the deal you made? Exactly.”

I sigh. There is nothing to be done about it, but under other circumstances, I might appreciate the effort he is putting in when there is no need for him to. “I asked the witch to take my power. All of it but that which would be required to sustain me, to wear a glamour all the time, and to raise wards around one dwelling of my choice.”

“And in return?”

“She could use the rest as she wished. I believed I had no need of it.”

“So you… You didn’t make a condition about coming back?”

I frown. I did, I remember, but still, I manage to say, “I did not.”

“What did she say to you?”

“I—” My head pounds. The memory is… hazy. Hidden, where the rest of that day is not. “I do not know,” I whisper. “All I remember is agreeing that if I ever did wish for my power back, I would have to fulfil my fate, or both I and my soulbond would perish.”

“Why would you agree to that?” Oisin shakes his head. “You never planned to return. Even when you found out the realm was dying—”

When Iagan came to me months ago and told me that Mother had died, I knew what it meant. I did not care. There are enough fae here; enough that there should be at least one powerful enough to wear a crown and stave that death off for a while longer. Veles could have done that himself, and I have no doubt he had considered it if things became truly desperate.

It is why Iagan, too, did not cross back over. He is as powerful as I am—no, likely more so.

Even in the face of death, I did not want to return. It was not a surprise to me. Ten years ago, it would not have been unreasonable to think it either.

Why would I agree to such a condition? I would never suggest it. Not after laying eyes on Dante even once, and by then I had observed him a hundred times.

“I do not know,” I murmur.

Oisin leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Might she be behind this? The witch?” The words are hardly more than a whisper, as though she might somehow hear them.