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I shudder and blink. I can’t find the words, don’t even know how to say what it is I’m feeling inside—a terrible mixture of love, fear, and regret—but I drop the wall around my heart the second I meet his gaze again.
He has my permission. To hold me, to touch me, to love me.
This foolish fae claimed me in front of his queen, her court, and a roomful of soldiers.
He has my permission, and everything that goes with it.
Nine knows. My Shadow Man can see it written on every inch of my face.
The room falls away. Call me reckless, call me insane, but I allow myself to forget all about our audience and the threat they represent when I lose myself in the intensity of Nine’s expression.
I tilt my head back, my lips parted in an open invitation. After only a moment’s hesitation, he swoops down, slanting his mouth over mine, kissing me as if this might be his last act.
I go all in. Because, well, this might just be the last thing I do, too.
I’m half-fae. The blood of a Seelie mixed with a human woman runs through my veins. I might be vulnerable to the fae’s touch magic, but I realize something in that instant: I can turn the touch around.
I can steal some of the power back from the fae touching me.
Does Nine know that? He has to—or he as to at least expect it. He looks so triumphant. So freaking proud of himself when he breaks the kiss and pulls away.
And, okay, that might have been one hell of a first kiss, but something just happened between us.
Something just happened to me.
I feel like I’ve been plugged into an outlet. I’m suddenly full of so much juice, it takes everything I have not to vibrate in place. I don’t want to give any sign that his kiss did more than bring the butterflies in my belly flapping to life, but it’s freaking hard.
The power is a heady rush. I’m wide awake, super alert, like I just downed three espressos straight.
Even better? My shadow senses are tingling.
I swear, I can sense the shadows from every corner of this room. There aren’t many—it’s just as bright as it was in my vision of Carolina with the queen—but each black spot is like a prickle against my consciousness. There’s one in particular behind me that is tugging me toward it.
A pocket.
It’s a pocket.
The last of Nine’s shadow is calling me.
I’m distracted. I’ll be the first one to admit it. C
oming down from that electric first kiss, I’m so freaking distracted, I don’t get that Nine has let go of me or moved toward Melisandre until I hear the harsh edge of his voice reverberate through the silent throne room.
“As her ffrindau, I invoke the right to accept your bargain in my mate’s place. If it pleases you, my queen, I will join your garden if it means Riley doesn’t. She stays alert, alive, and safe for as long as I’m under your spell.”
Melisandre doesn’t even hesitate. “I accept.”
That’s how easy it is. One second Nine is here with me, kissing me, standing up for me. The next? He’s gone. Frozen in place, still hunched in a protective stance, his arm thrown out so that I’m shielded from behind him, Nine is gone.
And, to the queen, immediately forgotten.
She turns to me. “What about our trade, Shadow? Are you willing to give up your freedom for your parents?”
“But Nine… he just—”
“He just ensured that you would be kept as you are while he takes your place. However, nowhere in his bargain did he set the terms on future negotiations. Your parents are still under my spell. Should you choose to trade your freedom for theirs, I’ll let them go. It’s an entirely different bargain than the one Ninetroir so rashly made.”
I never would have thought Nine was rash. However, even I can see the flaw in his bargain. So desperate to throw one last-ditch attempt to cover me from the Fae Queen, he neglected to think two steps ahead.
