“Come and get it,” Ani challenged. A long knife was in her hand as she advanced on her target; a second short knife was in the other hand.

Devlin scanned the woods: several other faeries became clear among the trees. He wanted to tell Ani, wished briefly that he could speak to her as her steed did, but as he glanced at her, she tilted her head, sniffed, and smiled. She was more Hound than not. His sight allowed him to know the same thing her sense of scent revealed to her.

“More fun, Dev,” she called as she tried again to skewer the Ly Erg in front of her. “I’ll get at least two after all.”

Devlin reached out, grabbed the Ly Erg in front of him, and before the faery could respond, slit his throat.

“We need to go.” Devlin watched as at least four more faeries approached from their left. The thistle-fey turned and ran—which felt more ominous than victorious. Even if the faeries weren’t there at Bananach’s behest, the fleeing faery would likely report back to her. He needed to get Ani farther away.

The steed bit the Ly Erg, pinning him in one place. Ani darted forward and sliced through the muscles at the faery’s knees, bringing him to the ground.

As she stepped backward, the steed was a car once more, with both doors open. Without a second look at the bleeding Ly Erg, Ani slid into the driver’s seat.

She shot a glance at Devlin. “We could’ve taken them.”

He paused, looking at her, realizing as he did so that she was every bit as capable as a young Gabriel would be—and wondered briefly if they should’ve done so, if they should’ve pursued the thistle-fey. “Perhaps, we might’ve. You’re a worthy partner, Ani.”

Her answering grin was more exhilarating than the fight. “Damn right, I am.”

The fight earlier that morning had left Ani edgy. She shifted in the seat, tapped her hands on the wheel, and could not sit still. Being caged in small spaces had never worked for her. It was worse when she was restless.

Would you like to stop? the steed asked.

He won’t agree, Ani murmured. Devlin sat beside her, silent and unapproachable.

Several turns later, they were on a smaller road. Devlin still did not rouse from whatever contemplation he was in. His eyes were closed.

A thumping noise came from the engine as the steed pulled over alongside the road; beside them a stretch of woods extended into the darkness. Imply that it’s a mechanical thing, the steed suggested. You need a proper run.

“What are we doing?” Devlin opened his eyes and leveled a suspicious glare at her.

“Stopping.” She opened the door and stepped onto the gravel. No cars were in sight. The moon was high in the sky, and the only sounds in the darkness were animals.

Ani took a deep breath.

Devlin opened his door. “Ani?”

She stretched.

“Ani,” he repeated.

“You can come or stay here. I’ll be right back,” she assured him, and then she darted into the woods.

It had been forever since she’d run, and when she had run, Gabriel always kept her carefully surrounded by Hounds. She hadn’t been able to decide her own course. The freedom of running as she wanted was unprecedented in her life— and so was being chased.

Ani wasn’t surprised that he followed. In truth, she was glad. It was unexpectedly thrilling to feel like prey.

Devlin kept pace almost as well as a Hound. It made her wonder what his lineage was.

After about twenty minutes, she stopped, stretched, and waited for him. His emotions were still securely tamped down, unreadable to her.

“You’re exhausting,” he said.

“I’m what?” She leaned against a tree, watching him close the last few yards between them.

“Exhausting, tiring, capable of wearing on my very last bit of peace.” He faced her, as if his attention was only on her, but she had no doubt that he knew where every faery near them was. Because he is a predator too. Most of those faeries had vanished as she and Devlin raced through the woods and along the highway.

“What were you thinking?” His voice lowered enough that she had to suppress a shiver. He was hiding some- thing—several somethings if her instincts were right.

“That I needed a run. You chose to come with me, so don’t go thinking that you’re the one calling all the shots.” She swung her leg to kick him in the face.

He caught her foot. “No. You had your play. We need to go.”

Ani jerked her foot free. She wasn’t very good at taking orders, not even when instinct told her that he was right. “It’s not your life in dang—”

“Don’t.” He held her gaze, and it wasn’t frustration in his eyes. Anger burned there, intense enough that she didn’t need to be Dark Court to feel it.

It was exhilarating. Despite being a creature of the High Court, Devlin had a shadowed core that was everything her own court was supposed to be. He was everything she had wanted to find in her own court: he saw her as an equal, yet he still wanted to keep her safe. He didn’t dismiss her challenges or bow to them.

“Go back to the steed,” he started.

“No.” She leaned closer. “I want answers before I go anywhere with you.”

He jerked a hand through his hair and narrowed his gaze. “Gods. Maybe I should have killed you when you were still a mewling pup.”

Ani froze. “Say that again.”

He turned away.

She grabbed his arm. “Say. It. Again. Now.”

He shook her off with as much effort as he’d need to brush away a moth. “Let it go, Ani.”

“It was you. At our house. You…” Ani stumbled backward and dropped to the ground. She stared up at him. “You killed my dam.”

His marble-white face showed no remorse, no pain for taking away the mortal who’d birthed her. “I keep order for the High Queen. It is my purpose.”

My mother.

“You killed Gabriel’s lover. My mother… Why?”

“It’s what I do, Ani. I put things back in order. My queen has enough trouble with the half-breeds of other courts. Dark Court progeny are unpredictable. Some”—he looked at her pointedly—“are more a threat than others. I was sent to correct the problem.”

“Progeny?” She stared at him.

“Yes.” He stood as motionless as a sculpture, seeming unaware of the awkwardness of his unchanging position, unwilling to sully himself by joining her on the ground.

Feeling like a guest in her own body, Ani stood. Vaguely, she was aware that her hands were dirty from pushing herself off the ground. Every detail felt too crisp then, too real.

Devlin still didn’t move. “You were important enough to attract the High Queen’s attention, and now—” His words ended as Ani stepped closer to him.

She tilted her head so she could stare into his face, and then she slapped him as hard as she could with her dirt- covered hand. “So you killed Jillian? Because her progeny are a threat?”

She lifted her hand a second time, but he didn’t let her strike him again.

“No. Just you were the threat.” He caught her wrist and simultaneously dropped his ridiculous self-control to the point that she could feel his emotions for the first time.

Sorrow-sweet. Afraid. Protective. Longing.

She paused. He didn’t feel like someone who wanted to hurt her. He felt like someone who wanted her safe.

What am I missing here?

She stared at him, letting his emotions roll through her, drinking them down to sate her hunger. “You didn’t kill me before. You won’t now…. Would you kill me if they ordered you to?”

“Bananach does not order me.”

Ani almost smiled at the idea that he could play word games with her. “Nice dodge. Try again. Would you kill me if Sorcha ordered it?”

He didn’t move. “If she ordered me to end your life and I disobeyed, I would be cast out of my court. My vow of fealty”—he held Ani’s gaze—“would be corrupt. I would be foresworn.”