As she moved for the door, he narrowed his eyes, studying, measuring her. The power she’d channeled had increased tenfold, as majestically restrained and graceful as her lovely body.
Eyes alight with amusement, he wondered if she’d finally discovered his omission, ergo her departure from the chamber. She would never be full queen. Not without living in Faery for an extended period of time. And she would never survive five thousand years in Faery without him at her side, protecting her. He alone could glamour her, make her seem full queen even to the Seelie. He alone could summon her court, making it seem she was the one capable. Not even Barrons could keep her alive amid such deadly enemies for as long as was necessary to transform her. With Cruce at her side, the Light Court would heel like whipped dogs. Together, they would be unstoppable.
He wondered how long it would take, how much she would have to lose before she finally saw him for who he was. And who he wasn’t.
Never her enemy.
Had events played out differently.
Wings arcing high, black feathers ruffling and resettling, he stood and moved for his own door.
Both had sequestered in places where time moved differently, testing their power, refining it, becoming more.
She believed him dead. Many were the times he’d envisioned her face when she discovered he wasn’t, and that a new, vastly improved Court of Shadows had been born and was ready to claim its rightful place.
“So it begins,” he murmured, as they stepped simultaneously from their chambers and into the world again.
5
Truth is seldom found when a woman is around
CHRISTIAN
As the rainbow-hued mist morphs into a whirling tornado of color, I wait to see what it becomes, ready to duel to the death. I will suffer no disemboweling, dismembering, dis-anything-ing ever again.
When it finally solidifies and stills, fully manifested, I stare, baffled. “Mac?” I explode. Followed by an incensed, “For Christ’s sake, put some clothes on.”
“Who is Christ?” Mac asks.
“What?”
“I do not know that name,” Mac says, with uncharacteristic formality.
I frown. How did Mac end up in that flask? What are the odds it would be the precise one I kicked? Coincidences raise every suspicious hackle on my spine, and I’ve got a lot of them. When insane things start lining up in sane patterns, someone’s manipulating you and having a grand laugh while doing it. “What are you doing here?”
“You released me.”
“Yes, but how did you end up in that beaker in the first place?” It’s a struggle to keep my eyes on her face. I can have sex again. My body hungers. She’s a beautiful woman and, although I’ve been disgusted with Mac at various points in my life (all of which I’ve gotten over; she’s as much a pawn on this ever-tilting stage as I am), I’ve always found her attractive. From perky, determined pink Mac, to blood-and-gore-covered black Mac, she’s the faint whiff of chlorine in a sparkling pool on a summer’s day, hot, sun-kissed skin, wed to something deliciously, dangerously darker and complex. I like complicated women. They smell like sex to me. To hell with stiletto heels and cleavage. Give me a woman with the dichotomy of ice in her eyes, fire in her body, honor in her heart, and the oft-necessary dishonor of thieves in her soul. I find duality irresistible.
“Put some clothes on,” I order, scowling. She’s queen of the Fae; she can will them into existence. Why the bloody hell is she naked?
“I possess no attire.”
“Glamour yourself.”
She gives me a blank look.
I turn, stalk to the mirror, grab the dark cloth puddled on the floor, whirl and fling it at her. “Drape that around you.”
“Is my form not pleasing to you?”
“Cover yourself.” The body is frequently drawn to places it shouldn’t go. Perversely, the more forbidden and unpredictable the partner, the more erotically combustible in bed. Mac is both forbidden and unpredictable. After years of enforced celibacy, I’m indisputably combustible.
She stoops, collects the cloth, and drapes it about her shoulders. Covering nothing.
“Clutch it closed.”
She does.
I relax infinitesimally. At least parts of me do. “Why are you here? And what were you doing in that flask?”
“I’m here because you released me. I was in that flask because that’s where I was until released.” She glances down at the shattered beaker. “You broke my flask.”
I’m struck by a sudden suspicion. “Your name is Mac, right?”
“That is not my name.”
“Who are you?”
“You may call me the librarian.”
“What?” I say blankly.
“Do I speak a language with which you are unfamiliar, or are you unusually dense?” she purrs coolly.
I roll my eyes. She does snark as proficiently as the woman she resembles. I shoot her a glacial glare, but she only shoots it right back at me. “What is your query?” she snaps.
“Query?”
Speaking slowly and scathingly, as if to a complete idiot, she says, “What portion of the Library are you having difficulty accessing?”
I blink, surprised. “You can tell me where to find things in this mess?”
“That is the function of a librarian.” As she turns to scan the jumble of oddities gathered from the White Mansion, the piece of fabric slips from her shoulders, and she’s once again nude, I’m once again uncomfortable, and apparently she’s deeply offended as she hisses, “This is not my Library. What have you done with it? It’s but a small portion. You’ve destroyed my filing system!”
Seething, I grit, “Have you a different form you can wear?”
“I knew precisely where everything was. Do you have any idea how long it took to arrange the contents with such meticulous precision?” she seethes right back.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I growl.
“Yes,” she snarls. “I do.”
“Assume it.”
She shimmers, shifts, and suddenly Dani is standing in front of me. Nude. Snarling, I pivot sharply. Christ, this just keeps getting worse. Back when I was half mad from the horrifying process of turning Unseelie, I’d clung to the ideal of innocent young Dani as desperately as I’d clung to the tatters of my eroding humanity. Thoughts of her gamine, effervescent charm had driven back the soul-distorting darkness. Seeing her naked makes me feel vile. “Put the bloody cloth back on. Do you have another form besides that one?”