“Everyone does better on their home court,” she argued.

  Instead of trying to explain it to her, I muttered a muting spell. “Now, what were you saying about home court advantage?”

  She coughed and croaked, her fingers clawing at her throat in horror as the words refused to come.

  “Right. Now listen. Your home court advantage is the magic of tradition, of old blood that was sacrificed over the ages to make the pack stronger as a whole. In the Darklands, home court advantage means that you not only have magic when your enemies don’t, but you can feed off them to become even stronger.”

  An image sprang to my mind, of the monstrous hounds that had been born of torturing and reshaping shifters. With a shudder, I released her from the spell and shook my head to clear it.

  We were not responsible for that, Blood-queen. They were warned, but their greed got the best of them. Caorach was subdued, the lyrical voice in my head gentled and less demanding, probably because of the repressing magic I was using to control my form.

  “You didn’t see the East Coast wolves when we fought them. We don’t know how much of that change was due to the King of the Unseelie, and how much was just exposure to Talamh na Hoíche itself. You’ve got to be prepared to fight against not only your opponent, but yourself.”

  “Fine. I prefer to fight with claws and teeth, but I’ll use a big stick if that’s what’s at hand,” she sulked. But she circled me, bamboo staff at the ready.

  “You were one of my toughest challengers. I don’t doubt your strength, just your control. You must resist the urge to change no matter what I do.”

  We circled each other as others trickled in to watch us, Rachelle with her kendo stick, me mentally flexing my magic, testing what I could use under the influence of the repression magic. If I’d needed to be able to kill, I’d be in trouble, but I didn’t want to hurt Rachelle, just test her concentration.

  I feinted left and lunged at her to the right as she swung at my head. She danced back and I lunged again, but each time I approached, she backed away.

  “For fucks’ sake, Ray. I’m pregnant, not made of glass. Come at me, or you’re on building security until I say otherwise.”

  She cursed under her breath as our growing audience jeered at her, and launched herself at me, the staff moving so fast I wouldn’t have stayed ahead of the blows were I not a shifter now too.

  Her face creased in concentration as she looked for my weakness. Meanwhile. Behind her I grew a vine, feeling it swell under the dirt of the fighting ring just beyond the mat, waiting for my opportunity.

  I tucked and rolled past her as the stick slapped the ground next to my head and lobbed a couple of easy shots of raw power for her to bat away. She gave chase, and as she leaped off the starting mat, I wrapped my metaphysical fingers around the vine just below the surface of the ring and pushed power into it, forcing it to explode with growth.

  Rachelle went flying, her back slamming against the stone side of the arena. She pushed off and launched at me again, her face flushed. To her left, I pulled a much smaller vine out of the wall, and when she turned to block it, I wrenched the large one up again, lashing it like the ropes at the gym.

  She was thrown off balance again and recovered almost as quickly, but her control was breaking. Her eyes glowed with a silver light, blue irises lightening to the color of polar ice.

  “You’re losing it, Rachelle. One more, I think, and you’re done.” I lobbed another orb of raw power at her head. As she ducked, I tossed another at her legs, then one straight to her midsection.

  With a roar, she took the last shot and leaped through the light, her body pulsing and changing, fur rippling over her as her body broke and reknit itself in the shape of a white wolf.

  “And now you see why we’re here right now.”

  She shifted back and stalked toward me, her pale skin flushed all the way down her bare stomach and legs. “Can they all do what you do, Morgan? Am I really a liability?”

  “I don’t know what they can do, Rachelle. I just want you aware of your weaknesses. You’re one of our best. I just don’t need you overconfident.” I turned to see her mate glaring at me, the tiny woman’s entire body vibrating with barely controlled anger.

  I opened my arms to her in challenge and backed away, but Rachelle stepped between us, showing me the delicate lotus tattoo that covered her back. She wasn’t born a shifter. Interesting.

  Good manners prevented us from differentiating from between born shifters and those who were made, the second being much rarer. But for a tattoo not to have healed away, she had been bitten after it had healed.

  I couldn’t see what Rachelle did to calm her mate down, but slowly the golden glow faded from Bonnie’s eyes and the smaller woman embraced Rachelle, her hair falling over Ray’s bare arm.

  “Bonnie and I work best together, Alpha,” she explained over her shoulder. “She saved me when I was attacked, kept me from making a mistake I couldn’t take back.”

  “Your family,” I murmured under my breath.

  She nodded and turned so I could see her face, and Bonnie’s cautious eyes peering over her biceps. “I was attacked, so I left college and went home to my family to recover. It took time for me to be mobile again, but the closer the full moon came, the more irritable I got, then angry, then violent.”

  I met Bonnie’s eyes. “What about you? How did you find her?”

  She sighed and stepped away from her girlfriend. “You met the former alpha, right? Well, my father’s pack in New Mexico used to send us out to track down victims. I arrived in Monterey just before the full moon. Ray had her brother by the throat, ready to tear it out. It wasn’t her fault, you see,”

  “I’ve felt all those things recently. Luckily, I had our pack to ensure I stay strong against the impulses.”

  “But you feel them.” Rachelle shuddered. “So much rage, and the pleasure when you let it out. Sometimes I still feel it, and it terrifies me.”

  I’d been feeling the very same way for weeks. Even the poor table had taken the brunt of my own lack of control. I motioned for the next guard in the ring. “Get dressed, Ray, and either control yourself, or bring an extra set of clothes when we go. You don’t want to be caught naked in Unseelie lands…some might take it as an invitation, and we will have less power than we’re used to.”

  Ray turned back to me at the edge of the ring as Javier, a cinnamon wolf with unending patience, but little true strength, took off his shirt.

  “About all those challenges when I arrived. I just wanted to say, all I wanted was my mate. I never wanted to be queen at all.”

  “I get it, Ray. It’s all good. I trust you at my back.”

  She smiled. “But since we’re all here, we could burn down the patriarchy together.” Gray growled as he looked down at us from his throne. “With the alpha’s permission, of course.”

  “Burn down the patriarchy? I don’t know if we’re ready for that just yet. Maybe if we start with the Unseelie Court misogynist and then move to my father’s court, we can make a difference.” I laughed and winked up at my husband. “I think the pack’s doing okay, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, that’s why we’re here, Bonnie and me. That’s why we want to help you and the alpha in any way we can. That’s why we petitioned to join your pack in the first place.”

  “Good. We leave in one hour. I’ve got one last errand to take care of.” I scrambled up over the wall to Gray. “She’ll be fine, I think, as long as they’re together. She shifts so easily…I’ve never seen anyone but you and Niall transition so smoothly.”

  “And she’s only a few years in. She’s going to be powerful enough to lead her own pack someday.”

  I frowned down at them, now joined by Javier and three more wolves I didn’t know as well, more new faces. They paired off to spar and I sighed. “She can’t lead a pack because she wasn’t born to it.”

  “Probably why she wants us to help her change that before she gets there. Rachelle’s not just strong, she’s smart. I couldn’t have chosen a better person for your guard.”

  We left the pack to work off their nervous energy and Gray followed me down to the water, where the kids were hanging out in the growing dusk. As night fell, it was easier for the less human of them to keep their Fae-ness hidden, so they hit the streets for fresh air and a few unprotected wallets.

  “Luther, I have a favor to ask.” I called one of my most frequent visitors out of the gang hanging out at the edge of the water. “I’m looking for some dark witches, not to engage, just to find. Want to play a spy-game?”

  He motioned to his friends. “Morgan’s got some work for us.” He looked at me. “Same price as usual?”

  I nodded. “Yup, all the food you can carry and one alibi. But please, don’t make me regret it.”

  “You always say that.”

  I looked at the hybrid ogre, tall by human standards, but too small to live among the greater mountain Fae. “I always mean it, Luther. I know you’ve got your ways to survive, but I’d sure appreciate it if you don’t get yourselves killed or incarcerated.”

  “Who do we report to?” Luther asked, sidestepping my concern.

  “Jean. I’ll be…away for a minute. Just bring the information and stay until I get back, okay?” I started back toward the BART station. “And I mean all of you.”

  I paused at the top of the stairs down to the train station. We’d delayed going too long, giving me time to get scared, and now I didn’t want to go at all. Instead of taking the train, I broke into a run, jogging up the hill back to the complex. Running cleared my mind some and reminded me of my strength.

  In spite of everything, the nausea, the confusion, the anger, the baby I was sure I wasn’t ready for even if we needed her… I could run, and I could fight, and I didn’t really have the option of losing.

  “We’re really doing this, right?” I panted as we reached the top of Lombard and slowed to a walk. “We’re marching into Hell.”

  Gray took my hand and said nothing. That’s one of the best things about finding your soul mate. They always seem to know just what you and when you need it.

  Sixteen

  I sat on the couch with Gray’s mirror in front of me, willing myself to contact Tryst one last time, a last-ditch effort at avoiding the whole thing all together. Gray stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders, gently massaging the knots I couldn’t relax.

  The mirror clouded over as I waved my hand to activate the runes. “Remember, we can’t be too nice, or he’ll think we’re weak. Too rude, and I’d bet he’s got more naked huntresses waiting in the wings to strut their stuff.”

  I waved my hand again and the mirror cleared, revealing Xtol, the huntress from our wedding party. “Good morrow to you, Princess. His Royal Highness was not expecting to hear from you and is indisposed.”

  “I understand, but if he could find his way to speak to me, I’d be grateful, Xtol.”

  She sighed but nodded her head and walked out of view.

  “That was awfully polite of you, Mo.” Gray’s fingers tightened on briefly, a comforting pressure at the base of my neck before Tryst took his seat in front of the mirror.

  “What do you want, Morgan?”

  “We left our last conversation in a bad place, Tryst. I just wanted to know if you’ve rethought going to war with the Seelie Fae over an old resentment that had nothing to do with my father.

  “How long did you wait until you told him?” Tryst sneered through the glass, taunting me like a school child.

  “I spoke with him before you.” I shrugged. “If this thing was known to him and he still offered a hand of friendship to you, I would’ve let it go. But that the prophecy was never given to him… It was an unfair advantage for you.”

  “Yet he still expects to see me in court to honor the old alliances.”

  “He does.”

  “Then let it go, Morgan. He doesn’t need you, and neither do I.”

  “You’re wrong Tryst. You both seem to need someone to step in the way of your pride. Let me come to your palace and talk about this face to face.”

  The sneer fell off his face, replaced by his customary disapproving pout. “Not until after your father and I have shared a meal. Come to the feast and you shall see me there.”

  I shook my head, counting out a breath. “Tryst, I will not allow you to set foot in the Light Court until you speak with me in person, so I know it is you saying these things and not a trick of the Dark.”

  “You are uninvited.” He stood and paced, the mirror bending and warping before it adjusted to him again, and for a moment he looked monstrous. “If you ignore my warning, you must face the same dangers and trials any uninvited human faces on the path to my palace.”

  The Unseelie lands were notoriously unforgiving to natives and outsiders alike. We’d been forbidden to cross over the border for so long, I didn’t know how much of the bad press was real and how much was manufactured to keep us out.

  In the legends, the Seelie court was a place where humans might forget time, so enraptured by the beauty of the place, that they simply never returned home, or when they did, they found themselves unaged where those they had known had already lived full lives and died.

  Contrarily, the dark court was the place where humans, when they stumbled in, found themselves in a never-ending nightmare of twisted, carnivorous trees, never ending dusk, and pooka who lured them to watery graves.

  The terrifying landscape had been created to prevent humans from making it to the palace, where it could only end worse for them. It was meant to stop them before they became entertainment for the court, their pain and humiliation seasoning the feasts of the Unseelie courtiers.

  Including having their bodies twisted and ruined, then sent home as monsters to terrify those they’d left behind.

  Those creatures had inspired horror in human tales, prompting novels about creatures of the night, and walking undead, built in a patchwork of other corpses. Mutilated, crazed animals that roamed the countryside in a swath of blood they spilled.

  I shuddered at my own thoughts. “I understand the risk of coming your court uninvited, Tryst, but I wish you’d rethink it. Even your own people don’t want war. You are going to start violence that spills over to the humans, and you’re literally the only person who wants it.”

  “That’s the highlight of being King, Morgan. I can do whatever I want.”

  I sighed an placed my hand over Gray’s without thinking, but Tryst caught the movement and his lip curled up in disgust.

  “Tryst, it wasn’t worth losing Ufasach Bas to my pack, was it? How many of your own people despise you? You could’ve led, been loved, created a more unified Arcadia.”

  “That is my plan, Morgan. You just don’t like how I’m doing it.”

  I felt my anger fast boil to my control test point. “No, I don’t. I’m just wondering who it is you really want dead, Lord King. Is it my father? Or someone you’ve spent just a little more time with since your exile. Would you be happy if you were finally able to kill me, or Gray, or any of us who were there for you, befriended you?”

  Grayson squeezed my shoulders in warning, but I shook him off and got to my feet.

  “How horrifying it must have been, to be forced to pretend friendship with creatures so much lower than you, Tryst. Sleep with your eyes open, my friend. I’ll see you soon.” I slashed my hand across the mirror and disconnected us before my rage could grow further.

  “Are you all right?” Gray pulled me into a hug and kissed my hair. “You sure you’ve got the control to go do this?”

  “Not really, but what choice do I have? My father won’t stop him from coming because it will make him look weak. I can’t send wolves without some kind of protection, because, well, we’ve seen how that turns out.”

  “You could let him have Arcadia. What difference would it really make?”

  I shrugged and laid my head against his chest, mumbling into his shirt. “I don’t know, but I can imagine some really bad things, and I get the sense I can’t imagine the worst of it.”

  “But if we could shore up the borders, break the doors that lead to us, we could keep the Fae in Fairy, right?”

  It was tempting to simply do that and turn my attention back to my own real family, my kids and the pack. I shook my head again. “Not one human life, remember? If we miss one portal, one ‘tween place that can be corrupted, people will suffer, and then we’ll be right back where we started, or worse.”

  “I don’t want to go, but every time I close my eyes, I still see those wolves, blank eyed, their bodies covered in oozing wounds, unable to think for themselves or remember their human selves.”

  I hugged him as hard as I could before letting go. “I know. Me too. We know Tryst is up to something, and that he both expects us to go looking for him, and wants us to fail, if for no other reason than because he’s still Tryst.”

  “Fine. Go get your weapons. If there’s one thing he won’t be expecting, it’s to have you show up five minutes after you call. I’ll get the others and meet you in the lobby. I’ve got some last-minute directions to give.”

  “Thank you for always being there for me. Gray, and for not judging my need for human weapons.”

  “I get it, they’re your security. Besides, if it turns out we can’t shift, we can borrow them while you get your spells on.” He winked at me, heading for the door before I could come up with a witty reply.

  Instead, I started the kettle to brew one last repression tea and put all my knives and guns back in place, except Caorach. Her, I left out on the counter next to me while my tea brewed, staring down at the blade that had helped Tryst first carve his reputation out of the battle fields of Gaul and Brittany, hundreds of years before.

  “Are you my blade?” I asked aloud, voicing thoughts that we’d avoided up till that moment.

 

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