Feversong

“I want MacKayla dead. She can be killed in her current form.”

“That’s not on the table either.”

“Then we have nothing to negotiate.” He sifted out.

“Cruce,” she murmured, and he was instantly back, face taut with rage.

Abruptly, she was in arctic wasteland, with a bone-chilling wind knifing through her. Her leather jacket froze solid and crackled when she slid up into the slipstream. Vibrating, moving in that higher dimension, she was no longer quite so cold.

And the tip of her sword was at Cruce’s heart.

He flashed her through a dizzying array of hostile landscapes, testing how quickly she could get to him.

She waited for him to tire. He would never take her to a fire world that would force her hand. He was too in love with his own immortal existence to invite death.

At last they were back on the beach.

Coolly, she peeled open a protein bar and ate it slowly, despite the desire to wolf it down in two bites to compensate for the energy she’d just expended. She was pleased to see that beneath his glamour he, too, was suffering from the exertion, far paler than before.

“My my, how you have changed, little girl,” he mocked. “I recall you, human. Still brash, not so gangly.” His eyes narrowed to slits of glittering fire. “Not gangly at all.”

“You’ve changed as well.” In her past encounters with V’lane, the prince had always been flirtatious yet solicitous, well-spoken yet feigned ignorance of many human ways. With Cruce, all pretenses were gone. Here was the brilliant dark prince who’d plotted and planned for eons, icy, focused, ruthless. V’lane was a seducer, Cruce a conqueror.

“I want the Book rendered inert. I want protection until it is.”

“Accepted. You will wear a glamour that shields humans from your sexual thrall, until the goals we agree to pursue are achieved.”

He inclined his head. “As you will. I rule the Fae court. As of this moment.”

“You’ll have to confirm with Barrons. I’m not opposed to it, if you remove them from our planet immediately.”

“This is our planet and here we will remain.”

She’d expected the rebuff; it was one of her planned concessions. “I want your full assistance rebuilding the walls between our worlds.”

His eyes shimmered with sudden interest. “I will aid you in reclaiming the Song of Making.”

“From a distance and with only superficial knowledge of it,” she stipulated. This would be an ongoing war in which keeping the enemy close was the only way to win it.

He laughed and the sound was a symphony of dark crystals chiming. “Not possible and you know it. You cannot invite me in yet bar the door. Working together entails risks for all of us, sidhe-seer.”

“You’ll cooperate fully with the needs we have on a daily basis; sifting, helping us complete tasks we deem necessary. That means no wasting time with ego or arguing.”

He said disdainfully, “Demand the same of Barrons.”

“I won’t have to. Time isn’t one of our luxuries and he knows that.”

“You will return my cuff to me when our common goals have been met.”

“In exchange for a final service.”

“What service?”

“A small thing that will cost you nothing. Then I’ll return it.”

His head swiveled in an entirely inhuman way and his eyes cooled to iridescent ice. “For all of this I have only your word.”

“Ditto,” she said.

“As of this moment, I am my race’s king and all will recognize me as such. My rule is undisputed. Even your bastard Highlander prince will pledge his fealty to me. Barrons and his kind will acknowledge my reign and kneel before me.”

She snorted. “I have serious doubts about the fealty and kneeling parts. As of this moment you’ll order your race to stop killing humans.”

“Not on the table. My brethren were locked away with nothing for too long. I will not subject them to starvation again. The status quo remains as it is. Nothing changes with the exception of us working toward the common goals of destroying the Sinsar Dubh—”

“Containing it and saving Mac.”

“—and restoring the song to my race.”

Her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword.

His gaze moved between her eyes and hand and he sneered. “When our goals are met, my race will stop killing humans on your planet. But no sooner.”

She knew why. “Because with the song, you could go anywhere, conquer any world.”

“Restored to our former glory, we will find a more…hospitable place.”

“You mean a world easier to victimize.”

“We are not monsters. Had my brethren not been imprisoned for eons, their needs would not be so great. Who can say—perhaps they would have become like the fairy court, in appearance and temperament.”

“And that’s such an improvement,” Jada mocked.

He bristled and she could almost hear the rustling of enormous, nonexistent wings. “You will treat me and my race with respect.”

“We’ll treat you and your race precisely as you treat ours.” It was the way of the world; leaders pulling together for a tenuous peace while their factions continued to war. “Agreed?”

“Until our aim is achieved and not one moment more, we are agreed. If you wish to continue an association at that point, it will be subject to new stipulations.”