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His eyes skirted the brand, his face stony as he saw the memories through the signet ring connecting us. “You protected her. You did everything you could in the moments you had. She will be fine. Give her time.” Rational, collected words that called to a control I no longer possessed.
I didn’t give a shit what he thought. It had happened too fast, and there was more she needed to know, more I needed her to understand. She needed to know why she had to follow those instructions. She needed to know that she would be safe if she listened, if she stayed out of fae territories and let that ring keep doing its job. I should have nipped her sooner instead of stealing that kiss. I should have sent her directly here.
Roark shook his head. “You had a split second.”
Because I’d hesitated, unwilling to let her go, and there hadn’t been the time it would have taken to travel the distance to New York. I’d left myself no choice but to send her to the much closer garage. If she was still there, if she was still in fae territory—even the Nether Court—she wasn’t safe. I had to go back.
“No!” He grabbed me as if he could physically hold me back. But I could—I would—return. What choice did I have? Roark’s grip crushed my shoulders. “We will find her, but you can’t return there. The Wild Hunt is on, and you don’t stand a chance if you step foot back in New Orleans.”
I’d left my city unprotected. I’d abandoned my throne. I was a dead man walking.
And I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant Cate was still breathing, but I wouldn’t rest until she was safe.
Certainty heated my blood until it prickled and throbbed, until it coiled and snaked from that aching absence in my chest across my skin. Roark was speaking, reasoning with me, bargaining. I couldn’t hear him as a new weight settled over me—a beckoning, demanding tempest brewing as it cried out for her.
“You can’t—” The shrill ring of the phone in my hand cut him off.
Fiona nipped in, summoned by that sound, but I wrenched the door to the balcony open as I accepted the call.
“Where are you?” I gripped the balcony railing, relief surging through me despite that strange, new magic smoldering inside me.
“He said I could trust him.” Channing’s voice gasped.
The magic ignited my blood.
“What did you do?” I seethed.
“A bargain.”
His rasp dredged up the memory of another rattling breath. A blood-soaked chest. MacAlister’s triumphant glare as I took that final shot. Succeeding even in death by dooming us both. I knew the sound of imminent death when I heard it.
“He swore he would take her away, so when she called, I phoned him like I was supposed to, but…” Channing coughed, choking and gurgling. “He…he shot me.”
“No shit.” Killing him was a much easier way out of a bargain.
I didn’t bother with a goodbye as I crushed the phone to dust in my hand, destroying it like she should have done to the one Channing had just used. I stared at the remnants of it as a new plan began to form. Magic glimmered on my skin, attempting to settle into place, to bind me to life instead of death. I brushed it off, blowing the dust of the phone off the balcony before I stalked inside to find the others gathered. The stricken look on Fiona’s face told me Roark was filling in the gaps for her. Romy clutched her hand, and my heart strained at the love in that touch. My sister scanned me as I entered, probably looking for the mark of the hunt, but her eyes paused on my left hand and went wide. I shoved it into my pocket and directed my attention to my penumbra.
“Call Garcia,” I ordered, “and have an ambulance sent to Cate’s place before her stupid brother dies.” She would never forgive me if he did, and while Channing was a fool, he had led her to me. He had delivered the one person I wanted. She’d been right under my nose the entire time, in my city. I’d given up the search so long ago, and then she had walked in and made that demand. Called me a monster and offered me that esmeraude ring, tugging it just far enough from her finger to stifle its magic—
“We should call Ciara.” Fiona snapped me out of the recollection.
“No,” I said firmly. “Someone has to run things now. We need Ciara in New Orleans, but Shaw should come here.” He would throw a fit, but I could only protect one of them, and he was my baby brother—whether he liked it or not.
“Ciara won’t be safe,” Roark argued as Fiona went to make the call.
But she would be with Roark to guide her. He’d kept me alive, a miraculous fucking feat.
“You will keep her safe.” Not an order. A fact. I slipped off my signet, the twin to his, and the magic prickling on my skin flared, searing across my hand, over my wrist as I surrendered that final shred of my old life to my fate. The magic sealed around me, binding my flesh, my life, my soul into something permanent and irrevocable, and on the other side of that bond, I felt the faint, beautiful beat of Cate’s heart. Nothing more bled past the other magic protecting her. It wouldn’t get past that glamour concealing what I already knew from the world, concealing the truth from even her. The stifled bond felt like a cruelty, as though even my selfless act demanded some retribution. But, like breaking our bargain, if that was the cost of keeping her safe, I would pay it. Because she was alive, even if Bain had her, even if she was in danger every moment. My heart still beat only because hers did.
I held the signet out to him and gave one final order. “Protect your princess.”
But he didn’t take it as his gaze fell on my palm. Not on the ring but on the glimmering gold tattoo that laced it, crossing to my wrist and over the back of my hand. “What is that?”
Something impossible. Something inescapable. Something worth fighting for.
He continued to stare until I reached over and thrust the signet into his hand. “Your duty is to the throne. It was never to me. Go to Ciara.”
Roark finally lifted his eyes to mine, his brows lowering as he tried to hear me…and failed. He shook his head, dazed. “Did you know?”