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“Harder to catch, you mean. Not to mention, often overused.” Junis wrinkles his nose. “I wanted a fresh one.”
Overused.
Remembering how heusedmy mouth, I want to retch. Preferably on him. Or on myself, to ensure no one touches me.
“The paths between their world and ours are dangerous, Nis,” the redcap cautions.“Especiallybringing one along on the way back.”
“It is done,” he declares unrepentantly.
I huff a frustrated breath. I want to hear more about those paths, danger be damned. I want their exact location, and everything else about them.
“Junis.”
I shiver, awareness prickling the back of my neck even before I lift my gaze and see him.
I knew it would behim. No one else could have a voice so suave and full of dark promises.
Lost in the dazzling depth of the gold of his eyes, moving like liquid inside his endless pupils, I miss it at first, but when I can make myself look away, I notice that Junis is shocked into speechlessness.
I don’t know who or what the newcomer is, but I immediately decide I like him, for this moment alone.
Junis finally recovers and bows as low as he can without falling over. “Your Grace.”
I see that everyone around me has bent forward or fallen into curtsies. I hesitate but opt to remain exactly as I am. Fuck this world and its customs. I am an American. We claimed our independence a long time ago. I’m not about to learn to curtsy now.
“None of that,” the man dismisses. “The winter court is thriving, I hope.”
“You’re very kind, my lord. As well as can be, given the circumstances. Cissavna’s betrayal has left a lot of unrest, dissent. Still, we manage. If you were to visit?—”
“Let us talk after the conclave.” Then, abandoning all attempts at pleasantries, he turns to me. “We haven’t had the pleasure. You may call me Valdred. You are?”
His voice is like warm chocolate on a winter night. I lick my lips. “Humans aren’t supposed to give our names to fairies, are we?”
I know next to nothing about fairy tales, but a thank-you got me into this mess. Right now, I’m taking everything I have ever heard for fact.
Valdred offers his arm, and I loop mine through his, letting him lead me away. Perhaps foolish, but nothing seems worse than remaining here with Junis.
My captor is either too impressed or afraid to think to stop us.
“That only applies to true names.” He tilts his head, curious. “Do you know yours?”
“What’s the difference?” I return, because his tone implies there is one.
Even as I ask the question that nagging, and right now, fatigued voice at the back of my head tells meI knowthe answer.
Although I don’t.
“The name that shapes your soul, rather than one given to you by others. It comes to us fair folk in our youth. Some mortals also hear it in their heart.”
I take a moment to come to terms with the fact that if I had to guess, I would have thought something very similar.
“That’s poetic. No clue if I have one of those, though.”
His chuckle is low and deep, like the rumble of a purring cat. “Everyone does. There are rituals to access yours if you wish. But give me a name to call you by.”
“Darina,” I reply. “Darina Thorn.”
One of his eyebrows inches up. “That’s a strong fae name. The Thorns have been around since before the gates closed.”
