Page 11 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

“That didn’t seem to work.”

“Well aware,” he said as he rolled over to his knees. “Goddamn it, I liked this suit.”

The guards crested the hill behind them. They were running out of time. Kierse needed a strategy to deal with the massive mountain troll. She had been certain that she couldn’t take her down, but with her new Fae abilities, was that true? Seemed like now was the time to test it. Her eyes darted up, up, up the enormous troll’s back to the flag fluttering above her head, then down to the blocked gate behind her. She only had a few seconds. Time to improvise.

She took a running start and vaulted up the back of the troll, using her legs and meaty muscles as footholds and her shirt to climb. The disoriented and now infuriated troll leaned forward, making the hike up her back easier, especially in these stupid high heels. Just as the troll reached back to try to swipe her off, she grasped at the flapping banner, yanking with all her might and ripping the thing clear off of the pole. She dodged another swingand whipped the banner around the troll’s neck. Digging her heels into the troll’s shoulders, she pulled with all of her might, choking the giant beast.

“A little…help here,” Kierse grunted.

Graves finally stood, dusting off his suit. “Looks like you have it.”

The troll wobbled as air left her lungs. She began to topple forward, and Kierse jerked sideways so the monster fell into the giant gate, ripping it from its hinges and sending it screeching to the ground.

Kierse rode the troll to the ground, executing another dive roll to escape the worst of the fallout. Graves was there a second later with his hand extended to help her up.

“Nice work.”

“You could have been useful,” she said as they dashed out the now-open gate just as the guards approached.

“I thought you had it under control,” he said with a smirk on his too-pretty lips.

Should she be upset that he’d left her to deal with it alone? Or happy that he trusted her enough to get it done without interfering? Why didbothfeel like the right answer?

They hit the main road, and a limousine screeched to a stop. Graves ripped the back door open, and Kierse tumbled into it. He followed, slamming the door and yelling, “Move!”

George, Graves’s private driver, took off, leaving the guards in the dust. Kierse turned in her seat with a laugh to see the guards disappear into the night.

“They’re going to follow the limo,” she said. “We should ditch it and lay low.”

“It’s warded,” Graves said.

“So…no one can get in?” she asked, jerking her eyesback to his face.

“It can’t be tracked.”

“You can do that?”

“So can you,” he told her as he popped the button on his suit coat and peeled his gloves off, tossing them onto the seat between them. Her eyes went to his fingers. Long and slender, they had always made her think of a pianist’s fingers, even though she knew he didn’t grace the keys but turned the pages of books. With the gloves gone, she caught a glimpse of the holly vine tattoo snaking around his wrist. She’d seen the vines that wrapped his forearm, bicep, over his shoulder. Thorns digging into his skin like hands into the flesh of Proserpina in the famous Roman sculpture.

She cleared her throat. “I thought warding kept things out.”

“Magic is about intent,” he told her as he slipped out of his jacket. The tie went next, and he undid two buttons at his throat. “Wards work by pushing your magic and intent into an object. My intent could be to keep people from entering my home.” He ripped out the cuff links and rolled the sleeves of his white button-up to his elbows before lifting his eyes to her. “Most of them.”

She swallowed at the sight of his powerful forearms. Not to mention him so…undressed. On most men, it wouldn’t be much to write home about, but Graves wasn’t mostanything.

She averted her gaze. “If your intent is to keep people from finding you…”

“Then people won’t find me.” He ran a hand through his midnight-blue hair. “At least, they won’t find the car. It doesn’t work on animate beings.”

She’d learned much about her magic and lineage sinceleaving his home five months ago, in the wake of his betrayal. Still, five minutes alone in his presence and she was learning all new things. She wished the knowledge had all been as easy to acquire as this.

Graves had lied about who and what she was. And while he might have laid clues for who and whathewas, she had still learned he was the Holly King, a primordial Celtic winter god, too late. Or that Lorcan, his enemy and the head of the Brooklyn gang, the Druids, was the Oak King.

The night it had all fallen apart, Lorcan had kidnapped her two best friends and forever family—Gen and Ethan—intending to force Graves to give up the spear and the sword, both powerful Celtic magical objects. An ancient battle between Oak and Holly had reignited, and in the end, the gods’ magic had hit Kierse, nearly killing her.

Graves had valiantly attempted to save her life, but it hadn’t worked. At the last second, Gen and Ethan had combined their fledgling magic into a triskel—a powerful bond between a wisp, High Priestess, and Druid. They’d healed her and together been forever changed.

When it was over, Lorcan won the sword, and Ethan had gone with him to study as a Druid. While Kierse left with the spear and fled to Dublin with Gen and the spear to get answers that didn’t come with strings.

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