Keirran sat beneath the trunk, one knee drawn up to his chest, watching Annwyl as she moved gracefully through the flowers. Every so often, the Summer faery would pause, brushing her fingers over a petal or fern, and the plant would immediately straighten, unfurling new and brighter leaves. Butterflies danced around her, perching on her hair and clothes, as if she was an enormous blossom drifting through the field.
I eased closer, skirting the edges of the room, keeping a row of giant ferns between myself and the two fey. Peering through the fronds, feeling slightly ridiculous that I would stoop this low, I strained my ears in the direction of the tree.
“Leanansidhe wants the ceremony done tonight,” Annwyl was saying, raising an arm to touch a low-hanging branch. It stirred, and several withered leaves grew full and green again. “I think it would be better if you performed the ritual, Keirran. She knows you, and the boy might object if I go anywhere near her.”
“I know.” Keirran exhaled, resting his chin on his knee. “I just hope Ethan doesn’t hate me for my part in giving Kenzie the Sight. He’s probably still reeling from that last load of bricks I dropped on his head.”
“You mean that you’re his nephew?” Annwyl asked mildly, and my gut twisted. I still wasn’t used to the idea. “But, surely he understands how time works in both worlds. He had to realize that his sister would start her own family, even if she wasn’t in the mortal realm, right?”
“How could he?” Keirran muttered. “She never told him. She never told me.” He sighed again, and though I couldn’t see his face very well, his tone was morose, almost angry. “She’s hiding something, Annwyl. I think they all are. Oberon, Titania, Mab—they all know something. And no one will tell me what it is.” His voice lowered, frustrated and confused. “Why don’t they trust me?”
Annwyl turned, giving him a strange look. Snapping a twig from the nearest branch, she knelt in front of Keirran and held up the stick. “Here. Take this for a moment.”
Looking bewildered, Keirran did.
“Do what I was doing just now,” she ordered. “Make it grow.”
His brow furrowed, but he shrugged and glanced down at the bare stick. It shivered, and tiny buds appeared along the length of the wood, before unfurling into leaves. A butterfly floated down from Annwyl’s hair to perch on the end.
“Now, kill it,” Annwyl said.
She received another puzzled look, but a second later frost crept over the leaves, turning them black, before the entire twig was coated in ice. The butterfly dropped away and spiraled toward the ground, lifeless in an instant. Annwyl flicked the branch with her fingers, and it snapped, one half of the stick spinning away into the flowers.
“Do you see what I’m getting at, Prince Keirran?”
He hung his head. “Yes.”
“You’re the Iron prince,” Annwyl went on in a gentle voice. “But you’re not simply an Iron faery. You have the glamour of all three courts and can use them seamlessly, without fail. No one else in Faery has that ability, not even the Iron Queen.” She put a hand on his knee, and he looked down at it. “They fear you, Keirran. They’re afraid of what you can become, what your existence might mean for them. It’s the nature of the courts, sadly. They don’t react well to change.”
“Are you afraid of me?” Keirran asked, his voice nearly lost in the sighing leaves.
“No.” Annwyl pulled her hand away and rose, gazing down at him. “Not when you were kind to me, and risked so much to bring me here. But I know the courts far better than you do, Keirran. I was just a humble servant to Titania, but you are the Iron prince.” She took a step back, her voice mournful but resolved. “I know my place. I will not drag you into exile with me.”
As Annwyl turned away, Keirran rose swiftly, not touching her but very close. “I’m not afraid of exile,” he said quietly, and the Summer girl closed her eyes. “And I don’t care what the courts say. My own parents defied those laws, and look where they are now.” His hand rose, gently brushing her braid, causing several butterflies to flit skyward. “I would do the same for you, if you just gave me the chance—”
“No, Prince Keirran.” Annwyl spun, her eyes glassy. “I won’t do that, not to you. I wish things were different, but we can’t… The courts would… I’m sorry.”
She whirled and fled the room, leaving Keirran standing alone under the great tree. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, then wandered back to lean against the trunk, staring out at nothing.
Feeling like an intruder who had just witnessed something he shouldn’t have, I eased back into the corridor. My suspicions had been confirmed; Meghan was hiding something from us. I was definitely going to have to talk to her about that, demand why she thought it was so important to keep her family in the dark.
First, however, I had to find Kenzie, before this ritual was supposed to begin. She needed to know what having the Sight really meant, what the fey did to those who could See them. If she’d really understood the consequences, she never would have made that bargain.
Although, deep down, I knew that was a lie. Kenzie had known exactly what she was getting into and chose to do it anyway.
* * *
I finally found her in the library, hidden between towering shelves of books, leaning against the wall. She glanced up as I came into the aisle, the massive tome in her hands making her look even smaller. That strange, unfamiliar sensation twisted my stomach again, but I ignored it.
“Hey.” She gave me a hesitant smile, as if she wasn’t sure if I was mad at her or not. “Has your voice come back yet?”
“Yeah.” It came out harsher than I’d wanted, but I plunged on. “I need to talk to you.”
“I suppose you do.” She sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. For a moment, she stared at the pages in front of her. “I guess…you want to know why I agreed to that bargain.”
“Why?” I took a step forward, into the narrow space. “Why would you think your life was an acceptable trade for something that you have no business seeing in the first place?” Anger flickered again, but I couldn’t tell if it was directed at Kenzie, Leanansidhe, Keirran or something else. “This isn’t a game, Kenzie. You just shortened your life by trading it away to a faery. Don’t think she won’t collect. They always do.”
“It’s a month, Ethan. Two at the most. It won’t matter in the long run.”
“It’s your life!” I stabbed my fingers through my hair, frustrated that she refused to see. “What would’ve been ‘too much,’ Kenzie? A year? Two? Would you have become her ‘apprentice’? Giving away bits of your life for the inspiration she offers? That’s what she does, you know. And every single person she helps dies an early death. Or becomes trapped in this crazy between-worlds house, entertaining her for eternity.” I paused, fisting my hand against the shelf. “I can’t watch that happen to you.”
We both fell silent. Kenzie hesitated, picking at the pages of the book. “Look,” she began, “I realize you know almost everything about the fey, but there are things you don’t know about me. I don’t like talking about it, because I don’t want to be a burden on anyone, but…” She chewed her lip, her face tightening. “Let’s just say I view things a little differently than most people. I want to learn everything I can, I want to see everything I can. That’s why I want to become a reporter—to travel the world, to discover what’s out there.” Her voice wavered, and her eyes went distant. “I just don’t want to miss anything.”
I sighed. “Promise me you won’t make any more deals,” I said, taking another step toward her. “No matter what you see, no matter what they offer you, promise that you won’t agree to it.”
She watched me over the edge of the book, brown eyes solemn. “I can’t make that promise,” she said quietly.
“Why?”
“Why do you care?” she shot back, defiant. “You told me to leave you alone, to forget about you when we went back, because you’re going to do the same. Those were your words, Ethan. You don’t want me around and you don’t care.”
I huffed and closed the last few steps. Taking the book from her hands, I snapped it shut, replaced it on the shelf, and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at me. She stiffened, raising her chin, glaring at me with wounded eyes.
“I care, all right?” I said in a low voice. “I know I come off as a bastard sometimes, and I’m sorry for that. But I do care about…what happens to you here. I don’t want to see you get hurt because of Them. Because of me.”
Kenzie met my gaze and stepped forward, so close that I could see my reflection in her dark eyes. “I want to see Them, Ethan,” she said, firm and unshakable. “I’m not afraid.”
“I know, that’s what scares me.” I released her, kicking myself for acting so roughly, yet reluctant to let her go. “You’re going to have the Sight now,” I said, feeling raw apprehension spread through my insides. “That means the fey will hound you relentlessly, wanting to bargain, or make a deal, or just make your life hell. You’ve seen it. You know what they’re capable of.”
“Yes,” Kenzie agreed, and suddenly took my hand, sending a shiver up my arm. “But I’ve also spoken with a talking cat, fought a dragon, and watched the Iron Realm light up at night. I’ve seen a faery queen, climbed the towers of a huge castle, flown on a giant metal insect, and made a deal with a legend. How many people can say that? Can you blame me for not wanting to let it go?”
“And if it gets you killed?”
She shrugged and looked away. “No one lives forever.”
I had no answer for that. There was no answer for that.
“Hey.” Keirran appeared at the end of the aisle, and we jumped apart. His gremlin grinned manically from his shoulder, lighting the shelves with a blue-white glow. “What are you two doing?”
He gave me a half wary, half hopeful look, unsure of where we stood, if we were cool. I shrugged, not smiling, but not glaring at him, either. It was the best I could offer for now.
“Nothing,” I said, and nodded to Kenzie. “Futilely trying to convince stubborn reporters not to go through with this.”
She snorted. “Hi, Mr. Pot. Meet Mr. Kettle.”
“Kenzie.” Annwyl stepped forward. Her hair was loose, falling down her back in golden-brown waves, petals and leaves scattered throughout. Keirran watched her, his face blank, but he didn’t say anything. A tiny glass vial gleamed from her fingertips as she held it up. “Leanansidhe told me to give this to you.”
I clenched my fists to keep from dashing the vial to the floor. Kenzie reached out and plucked it from her hand, holding it up to the light. It sparkled dully, half-full with amber liquid, throwing tiny slivers of gold over the carpet.