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“Exactly.” She saw the toll the wounds were taking on him in the tight lines of his face, the bleak hollows of his eyes.
“Most today believe like you do. That the fey world is a child’s tale or a crone’s superstition. Even the Other keep much of their powers hidden. But that doesn’t make the magic any less.”
“So I should give myself up, fall backwards and trust that you’ll catch me. That you’ll never let me fall.”
Though only inches separated them, it felt to Ellery like a chasm had opened at her feet.
His expression went flat; he pulled his hand away. “Never trust in the tameness of a wolf.”
“Shakespeare. King Lear.”
His eyes widened in surprise.
She grimaced. “My mother had a book of plays,” she explained. “She read it to me over and over when I was little.”
“It’s true, Ellery. I’ll keep you safe from Asher and his hounds. Beyond that, I make no promises.”
His words were meant to be cruel. To destroy the moment she knew they’d shared, even if he
wouldn’t admit it. She didn’t understand his motives, but she would heed his warning. No promises. No future. That was the way of men. And women had two choices. Accept it, loving only for the moment, or accept it, never loving at all.
Ellery had seen what the first choice had done to her mother. She would not commit the same mistakes.
“So what happens now?” she asked. “We can’t go back. And those beasts are out there. Somewhere.”
Taking a shaky breath, he pulled himself up. Gingerly, he moved his arm, flexing his fingers, bending and straightening his elbow. “We’ll travel toward the coast. Lands End. Keep off the roads. Stay hidden. It’s only until the first of May. Beltane.”
“What happens at Lands End at Beltane?”
Conor flinched as he buckled on his scabbard. “I cast Asher back into his prison and seal the reliquary.”
“And that will end it? I’ll be safe then?”
He said nothing, all his attention on breaking camp, erasing the signs of their stay.
“Conor? Answer me. What happens after Beltane?” He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Yes, Ellery. That will end it.”
Chapter Eight
“Twice in two days? You grow sloppy.” Asher stood in the front room of a rundown cottage among broken furniture, smashed glass, and dead bodies. None of them Bligh’s. His hunters had failed again. At least Bligh had saved him the trouble of punishing the Keun Marow himself.
The creature shrugged. “These not for Bligh. Not expecting trouble.” His nose slits widened. He half-closed his eyes as he searched the house for scents.
“The Other did this?” Asher gestured at the dead hounds.
“You lie. I sense Bligh’s magic. He was here.”
The Keun Marow nodded. “But not alone. He and the new Other we seek. Together.”
This new information sent Asher into a fury. The reliquary should be his. His brothers should be free. With the renewed power of the Triad, they would seek vengeance on those fey who’d dared to imprison them. But alone, he was nothing.
His hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms until blood dripped between his fingers. He’d only needed minutes in the chapel. Minutes before the casket’s seals would have been irreparable. But Bligh had gotten to the man first, halting the release. Asher had tried to take the reliquary then. He’d come close, the chapel stinking of blood and death before it was over. But he’d been weak from the escape, and the amhas-draoi had won—that battle.
Asher smiled, thinking of Bligh’s sister. Now that had gone as planned. One more victory like that one, and Bligh would beg for death before the end.
A tentative knock on the shattered front door broke him from his thoughts. “Miss Reskeen?”
Was this the Other his hounds kept speaking of? The owner of the house returning to survey the damage? With a flick of his wrist, Asher extended the spell of glamorie over the Keun Marow, both the hound standing beside him as well as the dead scattered around the room. Whoever it was, he would see nothing Asher didn’t want him to see. If it was the Other he sought, all to the good. And if not, he still might supply some answers. Who did live here? Why had Bligh come? Where had they gone?
