Tynan’s been so quiet, I’m almost surprised when he speaks. “The Wild Fae king and queen have been doing their best to welcome the displaced Unseelie—temporarily only, just until Finn can take his rightful place on the throne. But for their own border security, they can’t allow portals directly from Mordeus’s land to theirs. The usurper would use it against them and send his nastiest creatures through to torture Wild Fae innocents.” The webbing on his forehead glows brighter and pulses until he rolls his neck and draws in a deep breath. “We’ve been setting up portals near the Seelie border and trying to get the Unseelie through before the queen’s guard catches them.”
“The portals have to be opened, closed, and moved frequently to dodge Arya’s guard,” Pretha says, pouring herself a drink. “It’s draining on our forces, but it’s the best solution we’ve come up with for the time being.”
I finish the final stitches, and when I lift my gaze to Finn’s again, he’s watching me. I don’t bother trying to hide my devastation from him. I quietly apply the necessary salves across the stitches, but my mind is reeling. The children.
“Is he going to die?” The tiny, tear-stained question comes from the stairs. I wonder how long the child’s been standing there and whether she saw the extent of Finn’s wound. I instinctively stand and step toward her.
I don’t get far before Tynan scoops her into his arms. “Nah, kiddo. He’s going to be just fine. See?” He carries her to Finn, who reaches up and tickles her bare foot. She giggles and wipes away her tears.
If she were human, I’d guess her to be five or six years old. She has light brown skin and silky dark hair like Pretha’s. On her forehead, she has the beginnings of the silver webbing that Pretha and Tynan both have, but her big eyes are silver, and her smile—it’s just like Finn’s.
“Lark, I told you to stay upstairs when we have guests,” Pretha says, glancing at me. Her meaning is clear. We might be helping each other, but I’m not to be trusted with knowledge of her child. Never mind that I just stitched up her—whatever Finn is to her.
“But I saw her in a fire,” Lark says, and points to me. She cocks her head, as if trying to put together a puzzle. “Your sister isn’t in there.”
“Lark, stop!” Pretha pulls the child from Tynan’s arms and buries her face in her hair. “What did Mommy say about using your sight?”
“Pretha,” Jalek says, his voice gentle, “we might need to know about this fire if—”
“Then find a seer,” she snaps. There are tears in her eyes. “Not my daughter.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Lark puts her little hands on her mother’s cheeks. “I don’t try. I just see. And I don’t want her to die in the fire. She did that already.”
My heart squeezes hard at the worry in this sweet child’s voice. “I didn’t.” I hold out my arms. “See? I was in a fire a long time ago, but I survived.”
Lark isn’t paying attention to me. She looks at her mom when she says, “Next time she dies, it has to be during a bonding ceremony. Otherwise, she’ll never be queen.”
My blood chills. Next time she dies . . .
“Queen?” Jalek barks.
“Please stop, baby.” Tears stream down Pretha’s cheeks. She’s beyond distressed.
Jalek spins on me. “You do love the golden prince.” He mutters a curse. “You must tell us before you promise him anything.”
I ignore Jalek and pretend I don’t notice Finn’s piercing silver gaze on me. “I didn’t die,” I tell Lark. “And I’m not going to be the Seelie queen.”
She giggles. “You could never be the Seelie queen.”
This should be a relief. And yet the words are a little splinter in the wistful part of my heart that I keep hidden from the world—from myself. The part that wants Sebastian, the part that wants to be good enough to be . . .
No. I don’t want that.
Jalek gives Finn a hard look before turning back to study the child’s face. “You mean the Unseelie queen, Lark?”
Pretha shoots him a glare so angry, everyone in the room withers under it, but Lark smiles. “She could if she wanted, but she won’t have a chance if she dies in the fire.”
“Tynan,” Pretha says, passing her daughter into his arms. “Take Lark to her room, please.”
Tynan nods, and Lark wraps her arms around his neck. “You promised you’d teach me how to play your card game. Can we do that now?” Tynan asks as he starts up the stairs.