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He raised a perfectly sculpted auburn brow at me, his lips twitching as though he thought this was amusing. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”
“Youaren’t killing Lucia either,” I said slowly.
His eyes flickered between mine.
“I will do what is necessary,” he answered.
That wasn’t good enough.
“What did you ask him to do, exactly?”
He shrugged. “Seduce her. If she comes willingly, everything would be a piece of cake. If she makes a fuss, well… things could go south quickly.”
“You don’t feel an ounce of guilt just thinking about that?” I asked. “You’re not even a little apprehensive?”
“Not really,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve mastered the art of compartmentalization.”
“Is this why he’s been coming to my night classes?”
Sariel’s shoulders tensed. “Has he?”
I glowered at him. “Yes. He has.”
He clicked his tongue. “Last I spoke to him, he wasn’t particularly happy about my suggestion, so I’m assuming I can’t count on him to convince Lucia to do anything.”
“Okay, well,Ithink he genuinely likes her,” I pointed out.
“And that’s bad because he’s forming attachments with someone he might never be able to keep.”
“Jesus!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air out of exasperation. “Do you have a soul at all?! That’s your little brother’s happiness we’re talking about!”
“He’s allowed to be happy, Aria,” he answered flatly, “but I can’t let him put himself in danger.”
“What happens if this backfires and Lucia kicks our asses?”
“She can’t.”
“What? Are you serious?” I asked incredulously. “You think you can take her?”
“You won’t like the actual answer to that question, so I’m going to tell you ‘maybe.’ Now climb back under the covers; you need rest. Tomorrow is packed for us.”
“Fine. But this conversation isn’t over,” I said grumpily, shuffling over to my side of the bed and getting comfortable. I’d never seen Sariel fight openly, but I knew he was ridiculously strong.
“Sure, pup. Go to sleep.”
I was exempted from training the very next morning because we were meeting up with some fae scholars and historians. Hemlock received us at the entrance of what was presumably the library, then led us to a small office within.
The library was massive, with floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with books, chairs scattered around the room in groups, and stained glass windows that cast some sections in entirely different colors. Creeping ivy covered the tops of some of the innermost shelves, and mushrooms and moss decorated the sides of the outermost shelves. The room was split into two levels by twin winding staircases on either side leading to the second floor, their railings covered in strings of heart-shaped leaves that grew from massive pots at the base of the stairs and twined their way up to the landings.
Wild ferns poked out between some books. Butterflies fluttered in and out of the shelves, and as we passed a bookshelf, I spotted a snail crawling its way up the spine of a book.
“Thosecan’t be good for the books,” I commented.
Hemlock eyed me with a frown. “The books are fine.”
His office was beneath the west staircase, a cramped space filled with even more books and plants. Two fae awaited us inside; they were seated at a table split the room horizontally, and they stood when he entered the room. Hemlock stepped around them to sink into the big, worn leather chair on the other side of the room.
“This is Fern and Maggie,” he said, motioning for the two fae to take their seats.
