“What else do you expect me to do? Submit?”

“I expect you to not sit around and wait for the inevitable. You might as well be from one of the bride-by-capture societies. Always being on the defensive will get you nowhere; eventually someone will overpower you.”

I laughed without really finding anything funny. “So, what, I go on the offensive? Head over and just start taking on random gentry and spirits?”

“No. You start claiming your heritage. They attack you because you let them, because you kick at one and then wait for the next. You make yourself a victim, yet you are Storm King’s daughter. In his day, his rule stretched farther than any of the current monarchs’. His kingdom may be gone now, but his legacy makes you royalty. If you acted like it, they wouldn’t attack you so brazenly.”

“I doubt they’d give up wanting to father Storm King’s heir just because I started calling myself a queen or a princess.”

“Oh, they’d still want you, but they would go about it differently. They’d approach you with respect. They would try to woo you. Now they only treat you with disdain. They treat you like the victim-the piece of flesh-that you have let yourself become.”

I didn’t really like the thought of a bunch of gentry bringing me flowers and chocolate, but I liked it better than rape.

“Yeah, but joking aside, I can’t just go in there and say, ‘Hey, I’m Storm King’s daughter, treat me with respect.’”

“Well,” he said dryly, “it would be a start. However, you will drive home your connection to him most when you stop relying on those.” He pointed at my weapons. “They make you human.”

“I am human.”

“You are half-human. If you want them to respect you as one of the gentry, you need to remind them of who you are. You need to draw on the power within you, on your father’s legacy.”

I thought about what Roland had said, about how he had purposely buried my power. Faint flickers of the vision came back to me, how I’d reached for power just before it ended. “No. I won’t use gentry magic.”

Volusian sighed. He pointed to the burnt mirror. “Mistress, why did you use that as a weapon?”

“Because a Gray Man caught me unarmed.”

“Had you been in full control of your magic, you would have needed no weapons. You could have destroyed him as soon as he crossed your threshold.”

I tugged the sheet up and wrapped my arms around myself. The thought of power like that terrified me…and yet deep down, I saw its appeal. I didn’t like being defenseless at twenty-six any more than I had at twelve. Volusian sensed this.

“Your true nature knows I am right. It longs to be realized.”

“If I give in to this nature, I’ll become gentry.”

“You’ll never be fully gentry or human. That you must accept. You must simply take the best of each.”

“Even if I wanted to do this”-I swallowed, still uncertain if I wanted the kind of power he was talking about-“I wouldn’t know the first thing about tapping it. Roland can’t teach me about gentry magic.”

“Then you’ll have to find a gentry teacher.”

“Where will I find one who won’t try to rape me first? I don’t really have any friends over there.”

“Don’t you?” He looked at me expectantly.

“You mean Dorian.”

“Of all the rulers in the Otherworld right now, only he has ordered his people to leave you alone.”

“Seriously? But why? He told me himself he wants to see Storm King’s invasion happen.”

“Most believe he gave the order simply because he wants you for himself. I, however, suspect he also probably acts out of some ridiculous sense of altruism-and his own pride. Of course, some of his people won’t heed the warning, but you will find less of them attacking you than others. Like Aeson and his followers, for example.” Apparently Aeson was alive after all. I’d forgotten to ask Kiyo about that in the wake of all the other drama.

“Still…Dorian made the attempt, huh?” I thought back to my encounter with him. Of all the gentry, he had been the one I almost felt comfortable with, which was startling, considering how odd he was. And he had helped me. “But I know he wants to have sex with me too. He didn’t really make that a secret.”

“Of course he does. Which is why he’ll help you. He’ll help you because he thinks it’ll bring you to his bed. And because being close to you will impress his rivals and allies alike. They’ll think you’re lovers, even if you aren’t. He’ll like that.”

You’ll return to me. You won’t be able to help yourself.

I shivered, and Volusian continued: “You’ll benefit as well. Go to him as an equal, and he will treat you as one. His attitude will go a long way to influence others.”

“If I do this, I’ll have come a long way from being feared by the gentry to cozying up with one for political reasons. That’s quite a leap.”

“Not really. Not if you consider how far you’ve come since your trip to Aeson’s.”

“That’s an understatement.” I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t know, Volusian. I still don’t know if I’m ready to approach Dorian. I need to think about it.”

“As my mistress wishes. But I would advise you to think fast. Decide before Beltane. Siding with Dorian will offer both magical and political benefits.”

“Noted. Thanks for the update. And the advice.”

He bowed, and I stood up to send him back. Before I did, I couldn’t help messing with him. I was still naked, after all.

“Hey, Volusian, you haven’t been checking me out, have you?”

He gave me his trademark bland stare. “I assure you, mistress, the only allure your bare flesh has for me is to remind me how easy it will be to slice open.”

I laughed. If not for the fact he was actually serious, he’d be so much fun.

I saw Kiyo a few times in the next week. One of those times I was out on a job, doing an exorcism that turned out to be a setup. The house I’d gone into had no spirit but rather an asag: a demonic creature that literally had a rocklike body. Kiyo had shown up in the midst of the fight, and while I’d thought I had things well in hand, his help sure expedited matters. He didn’t use any weapons like I did; he was all body and physical force. Watching him move was almost hypnotic, like admiring a dancer.

His other appearances were similar, showing up when needed and then retreating if I wanted. Once, I reluctantly agreed to lunch after a fight. He watched me with those hungry eyes the entire time, but everything else was friendly and easy between us. It was like when we’d met in the bar, all breezy banter and connection-underscored with simmering sexual tension.

All the other times I saw him, he trailed me around as a fox. And, as much as I hated to admit it…he was right. He was pretty cute.

Life was busy now. Whereas before I’d had maybe only one or two jobs a week, I now had at least one every day. Apparently the gentry and other creatures hoping to get a piece of me realized they no longer had to seek me out; I would come to them if they bothered the right human. It was annoying, to say the least-and exhausting. Of course, since these fights occurred through clients and contracted jobs, I got paid for them. It became a very rich few weeks, though I felt a little bad since my clients never would have needed to pay in the first place if not for me.

I woke up a couple weeks before Beltane, aching and exhausted. I’d had two jobs and an “unscheduled” fight last night. Staring at my ceiling, at the way the late morning sun filtered into funny shapes through my blinds, I drowsily wondered if I was going to be able to keep this up. I’d lose to the Otherworld not through any one encounter, but simply via my own fatigue.

I trudged to the kitchen and found no morning offering from Tim. He must have stayed the night with one of his groupies. Forced to make my own breakfast, I put two chocolate Pop-Tarts in the toaster and fixed coffee while they cooked. Glancing at the table, I saw that my cell phone displayed four missed calls. I’d taken to turning it off, because the calls were always from Lara, and I didn’t feel like hearing them anymore. She’d either want to offer me a new job or tell me that Wil Delaney had left yet another message.