Dead. Dead. I’ve lost so much.
If only I’d known then what I know now …
The king lifts the concubine. I see her sliding down a body I cannot discern in the darkness, and (I straddle Barrons and slam him home inside me; God, it feels so good!) the concubine strains, arches her neck, and makes a sound that doesn’t come from our world (I laugh as I come, I’m alive, so alive), and when his vast wings spread wide, when they fill the blackness of his boudoir and pass beyond, he knows more joy in this moment than he has ever known in his entire existence, and the bitch queen would deny him this? (And I know more joy in this moment than I’ve ever known, because there is no right, no wrong, only now.)
But, wait—Barrons is vanishing!
Moving away from me, melting into the darkness. I will not lose him again!
I lunge to my feet, get tangled in sheets for a moment, then I am hurrying to catch him.
It grows colder, my breath ices the air.
Ahead I see only black, blue, and a white that is bled of all light.
I run toward the black as fast as my feet will carry me.
But hands are on my shoulders, turning me, forcing me away, fighting me!
They are too strong! They drag me down a black corridor, and I beat at the body that dares interrupt us!
No others are allowed here!
This is our place! The intruder will die! If only for gazing upon us!
Cruel hands push me, slam me into a wall. My ears ring from the impact. I am dragged, shoved again, and again. I bounce off wall after wall, until finally it stops.
I shudder and begin to weep.
Arms band me, hold me tightly. I press my face to the warmth of a hard, muscled chest.
I am too small a vessel to survive on a sea of such emotion! I grip his collar and cling. I try to breathe. I am raw, aching with need, and I am empty, so empty.
I lost it all, and for what?
I can’t stop trembling.
“What part of ‘if you see a black floor, turn back immediately’ didn’t you understand?” Darroc growls. “For fuck’s sake, you went straight to the blackest of them all! What’s with you?”
I lift my head from his chest, but barely. For a moment, all I can do is stare down. The floor is pale pink. He has dragged me all the way back to one of the dawn-themed wings. I fumble for my spear. It is gone again.
Awareness returns in slow degrees.
I shove him away.
“I warned you,” he says coolly, offended by my anger.
Well, bully for him; I’m offended by him, too. “You didn’t tell me enough, just to stay away! You should have told me more!”
“I do not explain Fae matters to humans. But since you clearly will not obey otherwise—black floors are his wings. Never enter them. You are not strong enough to survive there. The residue of all that once transpired there still walks those wings. It can trap you. You forced me to come in after you, putting us both at risk!”
We glare at each other, breathing hard. Although he is pumped on Unseelie flesh and far stronger because of it than I am, I gave him a hell of a fight. It hadn’t been easy getting me out of there.
“What were you doing, MacKayla?” he says finally, softly.
“How did you find me there?” I counter.
“My brand. You were in extreme distress.” The tiny gold flecks in his eyes glitter. “You were also extremely aroused.”
“You can sense my feelings from your brand?” I am incensed. He subjects me to violation after violation.
“Only intense ones. The princes pinpointed your precise location. Be glad they did. I found you just in time. You were rushing for the black half of the boudoir.”
“So?”
“The line that divides the two halves of that chamber is no line. It is a Silver. The largest ever made by the king. It is also the first and most ancient of them, unlike any of the others. When needed, it was used for punishment, to execute. You were running for the Silver that leads straight into the Unseelie King’s bedchamber, in the fortress of black ice, deep in the Unseelie prison. In a few more of your human seconds, you would have been dead.”
“Dead?” I choke out. “Why?”
“Only two in all existence could ever travel through that Silver: the Unseelie King and his concubine. Any other that touches it is instantly killed. Even Fae.”
6
The Dani Daily—102 Days AWC …
I glare down at the sheet of paper, but ’cept for the title of my rag and the date, nothing’s coming. Nothing’s been coming for a feckin’ hour.
Here I sit in the abbey’s dining hall, in the middle of this brainless feckin’ herd of sidhe-sheep that are so easily led they should wear feckin’ halters and waggle fluffy sheep asses, and the words just ain’t coming. And they got to. I gotta take up the slack ’til Mac gets back. Stupid sheep are back to obeying Ro and she’s yanked ’em back in line again, got ’em all busy trying to clear the feckin’ Shades from the abbey.