Page 112 of Veil of Blood and Bone

The AI overview fills up half of the first page. Ignoring it, I scroll down, past the Reddit threads and Wikipedia. Those won’t tell me what I need to know.

A disbelieving chuckle worms its way out of my mouth. “Sure, like any of this is legit.”

Except it might be.

The internet has a lot to say about the Unseelie. Most of it is romantasy and fanfic. Wading through that takes me a couple of pages of searching.

I click on the first result that doesn’t look like it was written by a fan.

...it’s not good.

It’s not good at all.

“Unseelie Fae are inclined to darkness and evil. They serve a ruthless monarch...” I trail off, my voice stalling.

Malevolent and hostile. Malicious and indifferent toward humans.

Deceit, trickery, violence.

Each new entry has something negative to say about the subsect of Fae, and by the time I click off and close the laptop lid, my mouth has dried and the coppery taste of fear cracks across my tongue.

Not good is an understatement. Every search gave identical information. Whatever Wren is, it’s dangerous and not to be trusted.

Who the hell did I let into my home? How would I go about getting him out again?

And worse...do I want to?

Chapter 23

Wren

Harsh winds send ripples of snow over sidewalks and curbs.

The drop in temperature changed the weather to suit its mood but the result is the same. Smart people stay inside, bundled up, in need of protection from what hides in the flakes.

Out on the side street, the gleam of amber light from Helene’s window is a beacon. I’m close enough to sense her but not far enough to lead any lurkers astray.

I should put more distance between us.

I don’t.

Every instinct I have screams to get closer to Helene. Which is exactly why I'd be better served leaving town.

I hunch forward, hungry tendrils of cold tearing at my clothing. The space around is empty, devoid of life. Even the stoutest of winter weather creatures take comfort.

They know something is happening tonight. The anticipation in the air isn’t from the storm.

Helene pops her head out the window, the human equivalent of waving a red flag. I glance up to see her eyes land on me and skitter away.

Nothing will touch her. Not if I have breath left in my body.

Darkness parts and a tall blue shape strides forward. I stand up straighter and offer a quick smile to my friend.

“Do you have any idea how long it took to cross Élivágar to meet you tonight? The spirits are angry, and the doors to Niflheim won’t stay open forever,” he greets.

“I knew you wouldn’t be late for our date, Hríd.”

“Late? You’re lucky I made it out at all.”