Around us, the storm raged, and within me, my hate for Leith was a storm of its own, a poison running through my veins. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him blighted. I wanted him dead. He could not be allowed to be free of his sins. And yet…somewhere in all that hate, all that fury, Kiyo’s words penetrated. Is that what you want? Can you do that to them?

I stared at Leith for several more heavy seconds. And then, bit by bit, the storm began to recede. No more lightning. The wind faded. Clouds vaporized. The pressure rose to levels similar to those outside. Leith sagged in relief, and I noticed how ragged my breathing was from the exertion of such power.

“No,” I said softly, feeling all the energy run out of me. I was tired. So, so tired. “I don’t want a war. I…I can’t unleash something like that.”

Then, for the first time so far, Dorian spoke.

“I can,” he said.

And before anyone really realized what was happening, he strode across the kitchen. His sword came out from its sheath, brilliant and deadly in the light, and he plunged it straight into Leith’s body. The Rowan Prince stiffened, eyes going wide, as Dorian pushed the blade further into Leith’s stomach.

Time stood still for all of us. I don’t think anyone-well, except for Dorian-really believed it had happened. A moment later, Dorian jerked the sword out in one swift, harsh motion. Leith’s body fell to the ground. Dorian had used the new sword, I realized, the iron-laced one Girard had made. Blood poured out from where it had impaled Leith, as well as from his lips. It was a hundred times worse than the mess Art had left, and as that deep red liquid pooled and pooled, a bizarre image of blooming roses floated across my mind. I wondered if I was going to pass out.

Kiyo surged forward, like he might save Leith, but we all knew it was too late. The prince was already dead. Kiyo turned to Dorian in rage. “What have you done?”

Dorian’s face was calm, voice smooth as he slid the sword-blood and all-back into its sheath. “What you should have done.”

Kiyo stared at Dorian, who returned the gaze squarely. Kiyo’s face was a mixture of many things: outrage, shock, fear. “You have no idea what you’ve done…what you’ve unleashed…what you’ve unleashed on her….”

Dorian glanced down at Leith’s body, then Art’s, and then back to Leith. The look of contempt on his face clearly showed just how beneath his acknowledgment they were. They were not even worth his notice, not even worth regarding as people as far as Dorian was concerned. He looked back up at Kiyo.

“I know what I’ve done. And do you think I’d really abandon her to the consequences? Leave her alone to them? Besides…” A wry smirk crossed Dorian’s face. “I’m the one who did it. I’m the one Katrice will come after.”

Kiyo shook his head. “No. She’ll come after both of you. You shouldn’t have done it.”

After what felt like an eternity, my voice had finally come back to me. I wet my lips, trying to speak. “Maybe,” I whispered. “Maybe he should have…”

Silence fell over us all, thick and heavy. Kiyo gave me a look…I couldn’t fully interpret it. “You’re in shock. You don’t what you’re saying. We’ll get you and the girls back to the Otherworld. Art’s records might show us how to track the others.”

I looked back and forth between his and Dorian’s faces. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I hated all men, exactly, but suddenly, I just couldn’t be with either of them, even though I loved them both. Plus, at the moment, I didn’t want anything to do with the Otherworld. I shook my head.

“No. Take the girls…I’m not going.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow. “What will you do?”

I turned toward Roland for the first time in a while. He still had his gun, but it was lowered now. He’d been ready to attack the whole time but had been content to let the other two men take the lead in this. Later, I would have to find out how this motley crew had banded together. Right now…right now I was more concerned with the look on Roland’s face. He was regarding me like he didn’t know me. I felt a piece of my heart break.

“I want…” And to my shame, I felt tears burn in my eyes, which was just stupid. Throughout this entire week, I’d never cried. I’d taken it all straight-faced. I’d fought and killed today without remorse. Now…now it was like a lifetime of sorrow was coming out of me. “I want to go home,” I said. The tears escaped, running down my cheeks. “I want to see my mom.”

For a second, I thought Roland was going to turn away, condemn me as the half-gentry he’d always feared I would turn into, the one who’d lied to him about her involvement in the Otherworld. I think if he had turned away, I would have died then and there. Instead, he held out his hand. I couldn’t actually bring myself to take it. I didn’t think I could let anyone touch me right now. I loved all the men here, but right now, I was inexplicably afraid of them.

Still, I felt safe leaving with Roland. Roland was my father. Understanding my feelings, he lowered his hand and simply beckoned. I approached him, stepping over the bodies in the kitchen.

“Okay,” Roland said softly, his own eyes shining with tears. “Let’s go home.”

It was no secret: my mother hated Otherworldly things. Her feelings weren’t that hard to understand, considering that she’d been a prisoner there, serving as Storm King’s forced mistress-not unlike my own experiences now. Just as she tried to ignore what Roland and I did for a living, she also tried to ignore the gentry blood in me, treating me as though I were fully human and often refusing to hear otherwise.

Therefore, I was a bit surprised that she took everything better than Roland did when we got back to Tucson. I knew they had discussions when I wasn’t around. He filled her in on what had happened in Yellow River, how I’d been practicing magic on the sly, and how I was now the reigning monarch of a fairy kingdom. He told her about Leith too. If she was shocked by any of it, if she was repulsed by it and hated me for what I’d become…well, she never let on. She was just…well, my mother.

She set me up in my old bedroom. It hadn’t changed much over the years and even still had the same glow-in-the-dark stars I’d stuck to the ceiling. When I’d put them there in my youth, she had fretted that they’d never come off without ripping out part of the paint. So, I guess she’d never bothered in all these years.

Roland knew someone who knew someone who came and did a field surgery on my shoulder, removing the bullet and leaving me with pain meds and antibiotics. That was about all I saw of Roland in those initial days of recovery. It was my mom who stayed with me the most, talking about anything that wasn’t Otherworldly and making sure I had entertainment in the form of books and TV. I could pay little attention to those diversions, though, not when my mind was on so many other things. I would turn the events of the previous weeks over and over in my head until I grew too weary to string any coherent thoughts together. When I reached that exhausted point, I would usually just let my mind go blank for a while. It was oddly soothing, particularly since I so often woke up from nightmares about Leith. An empty mind was sometimes welcome.

And it was my mother I went to when my period came. She’d already bought a pregnancy test too, just for peace of mind. When it came out negative, I stared sobbing. My mom held me in bed and rocked me the whole time, saying, “I know, baby, I know.” It was odd because I didn’t even know why I was crying. The negative test was a good thing, and I was glad there were no loose ends with Leith. As she held me-the first time I’d really let anyone touch me since Art’s house-I suddenly wondered how she had felt when she was pregnant with me. Had she been repulsed by the thought of the half-gentry child forced on her? Had she wanted to get rid of me but been unable to in the Otherworld? I shuddered, not wanting to ponder that too much. Thinking I was cold, she went and got me a sweater.