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He stepped back, gave me a serious look, and admitted, “I cannot say that the loss would be easy on me. Inanyway. I want you in my bed, and I want to stand at your side against all threats. But faery bargains supersede everything, Geneviève. You invited the bargain, and now we must address this. Think carefully. You tend to lose our bargains. All humans do—and that often includes those with magic.”
I caught my hand in Eli’s hair and held him to me, sword still against my throat hard enough to bruise. “What have Ilostso far,Eli?”
“You are caught in my snare,” he hedged.
“Oh, woe, forced to spend my time with a handsome, talented, clever—”
“Why, Geneviève, you sound as if you might fancy me. You’ll give a man ideas with such flattery.” His tone was light, but that was how he managed to keep me from running. Well, that and the reality that if I ran for real, the king would summon Eli toElphameand the man I loved would be out of my life for good.
“You know, I . . . I mean, you know how I feel.” My hand without the sword tightened in his hair, and his free hand curled around my hip. “I’ve said it several times.”
“Said what?” His words felt like physical things against my lips.
“That I love you, Eli.”
He kissed me again, and I felt like everything might be possible, like fairy tales might be true, and happily ever after might be mine. While I might not want to get married, I was terribly, irrevocably in love with Eli.
What harm was one wish?
I was just about to agree when I felt the unmistakable presence of someone dead. I pulled back from our kiss and instead of saying “yes,” I said, “Eli! Sword!”
I gripped my sword hilt again, ready to warn Eli that we were not alone, when a voice said, “You keep company with thefae?”
Iggy materialized beside me, body appearing after his voice
Eli snatched a sharp brass sword from a nearby wall rack. He raised it in one hand and shoved another sword at me. That one was steel, undoubtedly burning his hand.
“Geneviève.” Eli moved to give me room to swing steel, but he was still half-blocking me as if he’d rather sacrifice himself to whatever intruder had come into my home. His chivalry made me feel all swoon-inclined. Most people steppedbehindme.
I pointed my sword at Iggy. “Mind yourself.”
“He is fae, Miss Crowe. They are deadly and—"
“Only one of you was invited here,” I interrupted the corpse. “And it was, most definitely, not you, grave-breath.”
Iggy straightened his suit jacket in the way of pompous men the world over. “As you will. Yet, I must fulfill the mandate, Hexen. You are not safe with one of the fae. They’ll beguile you and—”
“Eli, this is Iggy.” I touched Eli’s wrist to draw his attention to me. “He’s dead and won’t go away.”
Eli gave me a glance that promised more questions later.
I nodded in response, and then looked at the dead man. “Iggy, this is Eli of Stonecroft, heir of the fae throne, prince ofElphame, and my fiancé.”
“Master Blackwood,” Iggy corrected. “You, sir, may call me Blackwood or Ignatius.” Then he turned his attention to me. “You are beguiled already.”
I sighed. “No.”
Eli looked at me. “Oh?”
“I mean, yes, but not through some fae woo-woo. I like—”
“Ahem,” Eli said.
“Woo woo. . .?” Iggy said at the same time.
I walked over to the fridge and popped a few grapes in my mouth. I needed a little something to take the edge off my stress. I wasn’t going to get blitzed on fruit, but a few grapes were the witch-draugrversion of a shot of tequila.
“Look. I have to find a dead guy. Not you, Iggy. A different dead guy. One who’s killing people.” I popped a few more grapes. “Deal with the police. Find out what Lady Beatrice needs. And figure out what the fuck to do about you.”
