“I said stop, Spindle!” Gwyn snarled—the dark-haired faerie had started moving forward again. He stopped, glowering, and Gwyn refocused on me. Her brows lowered. “Why go to such lengths for this witch? I’ve heard rumors. Rumors that you look at her with hatred in your eyes.”
I did my signature shrug, lifting one shoulder in a devil-may-care way. A freezing wind blew strands of my long hair across my chin. Snowflakes swirled like tiny, frozen ballerinas. “A lot of reasons,” I said lightly. “Because she’s the mother of my nephew. Because my brother loved her once. Because some people deserve a second chance. But mostly because I refuse to stand by and watch you chop off anyone else’s head. I have enough bad dreams, and you’ll be getting my next therapy bill, by the way.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Gwyn accentuated the ferocity of this statement with a blood-filled smile. The bullet must’ve struck something vital—goody for me.
“Then you leave me no choice.” I stepped forward, dropped to my knees, and grasped the front of her fur-lined vest. Even now, Gwyn didn’t fight back or raise a hand to defend herself. I pulled her to me, and our mouths met in a clash of blood and desire that had been simmering for weeks, starting from the night we first met.
It was a kiss I knew I’d never forget. The sort of kiss that woke a person in the middle of the night, making them touch their lips in a remembrance that was painful and beautiful at the same time. Accepting that it would never happen again, but glad that it had. Kissing her was like throwing myself off a cliff without knowing what awaited at the bottom. It was power and euphoria and desire, all contained in her taste, her mouth, her hands as she pulled me against her in the bitter cold, our breath mingling and becoming one wild cloud. I cupped Gwyn’s cold cheeks and deepened the kiss, something inside me clenching at the sound she made deep in her throat.
I didn’t want to end it. But I had what I needed and time wasn’t on my side.
When I’d touched Gwyn’s face, I’d made sure to touch the blood trailing down her chin. I clenched my hand into a fist, protecting the blood I’d stolen as I pulled away and got to my feet. Gwyn stayed where she was, her lips swollen, her blond braid loosened and mussed. I admired the huntress for a moment, knowing everything would change once I spoke again.
Just as I started to, there was movement in the window above. I glanced up and saw a thin figure standing there—Nym must’ve been drawn by the sound of a gunshot. His eyes met mine, and he gave me a subtle nod before he backed away from the glass, leaving behind a smear of fingerprints.
I didn’t know what that nod meant, but seeing Nym was exactly what I’d needed. A reminder of who, and what, I was fighting for. Even if I blackened my soul in the process. They’re worth it. I looked down at Gwyn again, my eyes narrowed, heart hardened with resolve. “Repeat the vows I’m about to say, and I might think about making this easier for you,” I said.
Gwyn laughed and rasped, “I will make no vows of fealty to you, silly creature.”
“I’m not an expert at this, and I suspect a willing soldier is more effective than an unwilling one, but I don’t need your permission. Just your blood… and mine.” In a savage movement, I ripped my arm open with my teeth. I backed away and shoved my fingers, still covered with Gwyn’s blood, into the ragged gash. Enochian poured out of my mouth in a strong, certain chant. I’d only said the words twice before, but they came to me now like old friends. Like the magic wanted to be used. “Allar gono epoh. Allar gono epoh. Allar gono epoh!”
By the time the dark-haired faerie—Spindle—started forward again, it was too late. Already I could feel a fresh bond forming, a new thread attaching.
It seemed different from the others, probably because I didn’t force Gwyn to say any of the things Gil and Finn had said while their spells were forging. Or maybe the kiss was to blame, and the lingering connection it had forged between us. Or maybe it worked due to the fact that I’d consumed a little of her blood, and could taste it even now.
Or maybe the sounds pouring out of my mouth were Words, the language of a god, and that overpowered everything else.
Whatever the reason, this bond wasn’t as pure or gentle as the ones I shared with Gil and Finn. This connection was made of shadow, and smoke, and black fire. It hurt to touch and everything about it felt wrong. Seconds after its creation, I wanted it gone. I fortified my mental wall as a precaution—something told me that I’d need to keep my guard up constantly now.
Gwyn knew what I’d done, of course. At some point during my chanting, she’d flown to her feet, her teeth bared in an expression of savagery. Her sword was drawn back, as if she’d been forced to stop mid-swing. Her hunters, too, had frozen in place. Even Spindle. We could all feel each other, I realized with grim fascination. They had a bond to Gwyn, who now had a bond to me. Through her, I could control the Wild Hunt, one of the oldest and most evil magics in existence.
“How?” Gwyn snarled. “You’re not a witch. You’re not from the Tongue’s bloodline.”
“No, I’m not. Despite your long life, Gwyn of bloodline Nudd, there are many things you still don’t know. I am something you’ve never encountered before, and it was a mistake to cross me. One that I can’t imagine you’ll make again.” For the next part, I raised my voice so Gwyn’s riders would hear, as well. “Since you turned down my generous offer to make this easier, we’ll do it the hard way. You will never kill another witch, unless I command you to. You will never hunt another person, unless I give you leave to do so. You will not plot revenge against me. Tonight you will leave in peace, and return only when I summon you.”
Gwyn lowered her sword. She looked first at the dripping tear in my arm, then at the steady gun I’d pointed in Spindle’s direction, and finally back at my face. I couldn’t define the light that shone in the faerie’s eyes. Her smile, too, was small and ambiguous. “I told you,” she said quietly. “I told you that one day you would be just like me. That day came even sooner than I expected.”
Her words rolled off me like a bead racing across a wooden floor. I smiled back, but there was nothing confusing about the curve of my lips—it was pitying. “I will never be like you, because there’s one vital difference between us. Something I have that you don’t.”
Gwyn tipped her head to the side, lazily appraising me from my hairline to my chin. From the bond, I knew she wanted another kiss. Confirming this, her voice was throaty as she replied, “And what’s that?”
But I was remembering another mistake she’d made. Remembering another prediction she’d thrown in my face, which had battered at my sanity ever since. Someday you will know what it is to choose between love and power. Someday you will be just like me.
“A family,” I answered flatly. Adding insult to injury, I put my back to her and said over my shoulder, “Only when I summon you, Gwyn. Remember that.”
With that, I left her there. Gwyn reached for the magic immediately, testing its strength, searching for weaknesses. The new bond thrashed and fought like a wild horse. I grabbed hold of it just to show her that I could. Within those strands I was surprised to discover… admiration. Gwyn watched me walk toward the barn, and even with a bullet in her chest, she was able to admire my ass as I went.