“Talek Edevane, the reigning king of the Light Fae in the human realm, seeks revenge against you. Using Lugh’s legendary Spear of Assal, he plans to usurp your power and destroy the longstanding peace you’ve maintained in Faerie. We must act now if we are to stop him.”
“Tell me where this Edevane is now,” the queen demands, stoic as ever.
I speak up. “We think he’s already here, preparing to descend on the Summer Palace even as we speak.”
Aine’s icy barrier melts just enough to reveal a hint of surprise. Taryn told us that her mother can sense whenever anyone crosses the veil into Faerie. We assumed she was watching us and choosing not to intervene to see what we did. But now she seems as though she’s not aware of Edevane’s presence either. Come to think of it, he admitted to making multiple trips on his search for the spear, so she should’ve sensed him a long time ago.
Something else Edevane said to Taryn in the cavern keeps scratching on the back of my brain. You really should touch base with your mother more often, Princess. It’s amazing how much things can change over time.
Narrowing my eyes to study her, I ask, “Why isn’t anyone allowed an audience with you anymore?”
She visibly takes offense, her lavender eyes sparking with violet. “Do not speak to me as though you know our customs, banished prince. Yes, I know who you are. You reek of Verran arrogance and look just like your grandfather, Domnall.”
Speaking through clenched teeth, I reply, “Thank you, Your Majesty, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Hey, don’t talk to him like that,” Taryn shouts, her hands fisted at her sides. “He doesn’t deserve your disrespect, none of them do. We didn’t have to come here, you know. Where we live isn’t in danger, Faerie is. But none of us want to see this realm or her people destroyed, and that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you don’t take this seriously.”
Aine doesn’t respond, merely continues studying her daughter, as though waiting for her to say something that matters.
Taryn crosses her arms and settles on one hip, and I get the sense this battle of wills is a familiar game to them. “Okay, fine. If it isn’t enough to know that he has Lugh’s spear and knows how to use it, he’s also siphoned enough of my blood to bring an entire army across the veil, and he’s able to wield my Mystic powers as expertly as though he was born with them. Does that have your attention?”
The queen’s back snaps more rigid, if that’s even possible, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her head as she calculates her odds against the coming threat. Finally, she calls out for an aid who flies into the room so fast, she’s a blur of purple and green until she’s kneeling at the bottom of the dais.
Aine switches to Faerish, so Taryn translates quietly for the rest of us. “She’s sending scouts to every region with instructions to search for any male with a spear or staff, traveling alone or with others, then report back.”
When the fae zips off to do the queen’s bidding, Aine returns her focus to us as though deciding what to do with what her cat dragged in. “We’ll know more when they return. Until then, I suppose I should put you up for the night.”
Her daughter scoffs. “You couldn’t pay us to—”
“We accept,” I say firmly, then force myself to tack on the diplomatic pleasantries. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Taryn whips her gaze up at me in surprise. “We do?”
I have several reasons for accepting the OTQ’s reluctant hospitality. First, we can’t afford to insult her. Second, most of us could use a proper meal after subsisting only on beef jerky and power bars since crossing the veil (no idea what Dmitri’s been doing, and I don’t plan on asking). And third, though she’s hiding it well, I know Taryn’s nerves are shot, and to help her with that, we need privacy.
Taking her hand in mine, I thread our fingers together and hold firm. “We do.”
THIRTY-FIVEFINNIAN
“Let me get this straight,” Taryn says. “You insisted we accept a room so we could not have sex?”
We ate our fill in the dining hall with the twins—sans OTQ, thankfully—and now we’re in our own posh guest suite. The genuine irritation on her face makes me laugh. Pulling her arms apart from where she’s crossed them over her chest, I drag her against me and quickly lock her into an embrace so she can’t wriggle away. Pressing my forehead to hers, I look into her eyes.
“Not yet, love.” Her features soften, and she melts into me from that new endearment. Noted. “I’m going to take care of you. Sometimes that will mean pleasuring your body until you’re a quivering, soaked mess of a thing. And sometimes I’ll know you need something else.”
“Careful,” she warns. “My brain is fully operational and set to ‘hear me roar’ mode.”
I smile and hold her face as I plant a gentle kiss on the twin pillows of her mouth. Gods, I could spend an eternity kissing those lips. Forcing myself to pull away, I give her a serious look.
“I will always defer to you, Taryn. If you tell me I’m wrong, I will listen. But in turn, I want you to really think about what it is you truly need and not just what you want to need.”
She arches a brow skeptically. “And what is it you think I need right now?”
Reaching into my backpack, I pull out a coiled length of lavender rope that matches her eyes, then run the soft bundle across her collarbones.
“To feel quiet,” I say in low voice. “To feel safe.” Her lids drift shut on a sigh, and I know she’s accepting I’m right. But I want her to be clear about her choice. “Will you let me tie you, little sun? Let me love you with my ropes.”
“Yes, please,” she whispers. “I’d like that.”
Her eyes open and meet mine, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and trust. I smile softly, letting her know I’m here, fully present, and ready to ease her worries. I remove her T-shirt but leave her blue satin bra on. If I do this naked, we’re both going to veer off the path I want us on. Those things can come later, once I’m sure she’s leveled out.
I guide her to a settee and instruct her to sit in a comfortable position. As I begin to shake out the first supple rope, I can already feel a sense of calm begin to wash over both of us. Every single strand of the rope holds a purpose; it is not simply a tool, but an extension of my affection, forged to embrace and support her the same way I would with my body.
Carefully, I begin tying a chest harness, starting from the base of her torso. Each knot and twist is executed with grace, taking care to adjust the tension just right. I maintain a steady and deliberate pace, allowing her to surrender entirely to the moment, to trust in me and in the security I provide.
Her breaths starts to slow and deepen, her muscles relaxing as the gentle pressure of the ropes form a cradle of reassurance. With every knot, I’m silently reminding her that her anxiety does not define her, that she is loved and she is safe.
As I work, I steal glances, drinking in the sight of her beautiful vulnerability. Her chest rises and falls with newfound ease, the rhythm of her heartbeat syncing with mine.
With one final gentle tug, I secure the last loop of the harness. Pulling her up to stand, I revel in the way she instinctively dissolves into my embrace.
“And that, love,” I whisper into the top of her hair, “is the power of a harness.”
Her eyes drift shut on a sigh of contentment as she rests her cheek against my chest. “Mm, you can power harness me any time. This feels great.”
I freeze. “What did you just say?”
“I said it feels great,” she murmurs.
