Page 44 of A House of Cloaks & Daggers

Wren stared down the corridor, clenching and unclenching his fists around the edge of the table. He gave no indication that he saw the parallels I was drawing between myself and the Malum—that he saw how much my fear might cost me, how I might also be punished for abandoning my post in the middle of the night.

And how I had been selfish and cruel long before I learned that it was my birthright.

I whispered, “I’m sorry for what happened to the Malum back then, and I’m sorry for what you’re saying is going to happen now. But I don’t want to know who my father is or what kind of magic I may or may not have. I want to go home before it’s too late. Before I forget who I really am, before too much time has passed, and while they still might recognise me. I never should have left them in the first place.”

Wren gave me a sidelong glance, one eyebrow arched speculatively. “Icouldforce you to stay here, you know.”

Blood rushed straight to my head. I gaped at him in horror.

Immediately, I wished that I could take it all back, the feeling like desperately trying to put the flood of spilled water back into its jug with nothing but my bare hands. The guilt, the confession, all the broken little pieces of me that I’d offered up to him as payment. My skin tingled with shame, simmering beneath the surface, threatening to engulf me and leave nothing except charred remains behind.

I shouldn’t have trusted him with anything else that belonged to me. He already had too much. I should not have admitted to any of that out loud, not even to someone like him. Panic began to set in, seizing the blood in my veins on its mad rush back to my heart.

“It’s not your fault,” Wren said suddenly, his voice barely a whisper. He cleared his throat. “Faerie has an…allureto humans. Even more so when you’re part-faerie. I don’t think you would have been able to say no to me, regardless. And I don’t think you’ll feel the same way about it tomorrow, but I’ll take you back to the gateway if you do.”

I managed to roll my eyes at the arrogance underpinning his tone, and then I nodded vaguely. An act of kindness from the High Fae, however small or self-serving, was a rarity to cherish. I willed the tears to stop trickling over my lower lids.

“And if I’d known that a little history lesson would put you in such a state, I wouldn’t have bothered,” he quipped, shaking his head at the floor. “You’re polluting my air with the tang of salt, so if it’ll help you get yourself under control again, you may as well know that your family will not forget you.”

My eyes turned dry. “What?”

Wren peered at me, studying the slow evaporation of moisture on my cheeks. He rose from his perch on the table and closed the distance between us, bringing his hands up to cradle the sides of my face. I tensed, but I let him hold me there.

“Your mother believes she received a call from a hospital in the next state, claiming that your father had been admitted for alcohol poisoning,” he stated, wiping the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. “They wanted to discuss his condition with his next of kin and arrange placement in a rehabilitation facility should he make a full recovery. You offered to go so that she can keep Brynn at home, and you’ll be staying there in nearby accommodation until further notice. I spelled it so that she’ll think you’re keeping in touch with her every couple of days, though she won’t be able to remember exactly the last time the two of you spoke or what was said.”

Gratitude rose to my lips, stronger than any feelings of surprise and confusion, but I stopped myself from forming thewords as Wren’s thumb swiped across my mouth, gathering the last traces of salt from my face.

He returned to his perch on the table by the wall as if he hadn’t noticed the way my eyes had softened. “No faerie fathers or demon hunters, as requested. You’re free to return to your old life whenever you wish. However, I strongly advise against it.”

The question stumbled up my throat, snagging on numb lips. “And—”

“No, your father will not be going back to them. Not any time soon.”

Wren had given me a way home. In my paranoia and desperation, I hadn’t asked him to do that. I’d done the total opposite; I’d asked him to erase me, but he’d made a loophole.

I didn’t ask why my father figure wouldn’t be going back. I didn’t care.

They were safe. My mother and Brynn were safe, and I was—

I wasfree.

It took every last ounce of my strength not to show him how I felt. To keep my gratitude and vulnerability to myself. I needed a reality check.

Free, but he could still force me to stay. He still kept a man trapped in a basement or a dungeon and tortured him. He was still High Fae, and I was still a human in Faerie.

Taking a deep breath, I forced my features to smooth over into bored curiosity as I asked, “What do you think prompted the Malum to want to come home now, then?” I turned back towards the window, keeping my gaze low. He was dangling a carrot in front of me, and I would not bite. “You won the war ages ago.”

A deep voice, rough with a slight accent, answered in his place. “Actually, we lost the war.”

I whirled, and my eyes fell upon the most prepossessing and intimidating man I had ever seen in my life. He commandedthe air in the room with his presence—and commanded Wren, too.

My jaunty escort practically leapt from his perch against the wall and crashed to the floor, boots squeaking against the hardwood as he inexpertly fell onto one knee before the speaker.

“Your Majesty,” he hummed, looking up from beneath slightly furrowed brows. The absolute commitment he displayed, the dedication he offered to that man with his eyes was unnerving to witness. Even his voice was exaggerated when he spoke. “Auralie, please say hello to the High King of Faerie, Lucais Starfire.”

Chapter eighteen

Lucais

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