Page 41 of A Bargain with the Fae King

“Magical barriers,” Riven says. “I have them around my land. All fae rulers do.”

A near-hysterical laugh slips from my lips. All fae rulers. Implying many. Of course, just what I need, a bunch of arrogant fae monarchs.

“They should keep fae of other courts out, the weak ones anyway, and slow down the stronger ones.”

“Or at least let us know they’re here.” Ambrose scratches at his beard.

“The magic has faded too much.” Riven paces. “I should have…” He runs his hands down his face again.

“That’s why the Unseelie didn’t shift away with my sister from the start?” I ask.

“Only the strongest fae can shift,” Ambrose says, watching Riven wrestle with his internal struggle. “Unseelie are weak after… It’s a long story. They shouldn’t have been able to. We didn’t think they could.”

Nausea churns in my gut again. Had all the strong fae come out to play this evening? “So, the woman who took my sister…”

“Is much stronger than she should be, especially for an Unseelie,” Riven says. “I haven’t seen an Unseelie who could do that since the war.”

Ambrose traces the scar on his face. “Aye, if one can grow strong enough to shift and do it within wards, then we may have bigger problems than we know. None of our reports indicated the Wild Tribes growing so strong.”

My nails bite into my palm. This conversation isn’t helping. Not at all. “Where do we start?”

Both men look in my direction.

I gape back at them. “May. Where do we look to find her?”

“We’ll comb the forest, but we don’t know where she went,” Ambrose says. “We should be able to feel it. But I don’t.”

The stiff set of Riven’s jaw is silent confirmation that he doesn’t either.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“Nothing good,” Riven answers. “And if we can’t find her, we’ll need something to trade for her in seven days.”

Fury boils up within me, overflowing as I stomp my foot against the ground. “We are not waiting around for seven days!”

“No, we’re not. But we need to prepare for that possibility just in case.”

“Trade me,” I say.

Both men look at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Out of the question,” Riven replies at once.

Ambrose nods in agreement.

“She’s my sis—” I start.

Riven places a finger across my lips, silencing my retort. “We know, and we’ll get her back. But losing you in the process is not an option.”

I bite my lip to keep from shouting in his face.

“Do you think we can trust Sigurd?” Ambrose glances in the direction of where the King of Air had stood.

“No. But he has spies, likely more than one, watching me if he already knows so much about Lia, much less the Wild Tribes.”

Spies. The word has me squirming in my boots. First strong Unseelie, then another king, and now spies. I huff air through my nose. What’s next?

Ambrose rubs the scruff on his chin. “I thought so too.”

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