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The guards shouted and gave chase, boots in multitude crushing the snow and ice in pursuit. Ronan muttered a few words of Old Maejian, the ancient language of the Tuatha Dé, and a duplicate image of Ronan and Bella split from their bodies and headed in the opposite direction, running across the square while they—the real they—melted seam lessly into the inkiness of the space near the base of the Rose Tower.
The guards took the bait, changed directions, and followed the illusion. Magick like Ronan’s came in handy.
“Let me down!”
He stopped and eased her to the snowy pavement. He’d covered their snow tracks with another illusion. He paced away from her, pushing a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell, Bella. You have to come with me now. I didn’t want this. It’s too dangerous.”
“Yes, well, I don’t want to go either.” Even though a part of her did. He was going to the Boundary Lands and she very much wanted to see them.
And maybe that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to go with him.
“I’ll tell them I coerced you into going with me.”
“The guards clearly saw me trying to protect you, Ronan.”
He swore under his breath. “It doesn’t matter. Once I have the object, I’ll be able to bargain with the Summer Queen for anything.”
She tried, and failed, to imagine what could compel the Summer Queen to forgive Ronan of all his trespasses, and Bella’s too. Her voice lowered. “What did you do for the Phaendir, Ronan?”
He smiled, his teeth white against his golden skin. “I stole something for them and then I stole it from them. Something very rare and powerful.”
FOUR
Ronan studied Bella as she walked under the soft glow of the intermittent streetlights with snowflakes catching in her long dark hair and on the shoulders of her burgundy coat. She glanced at him. She’d drawn her normally lush mouth into a thin line and narrowed her eyes.
They were making their way farther into the Ceantar Láir, the area where most of the fae in Purgatory lived, the trooping fae—all those who didn’t belong to one of the courts and weren’t wildlings. The Ceantar Láir formed a half ring between downtown Piefferburg and the Boundary Lands, and there was a lot of water in it and many bridges. They were walking because any other sort of transport right now was too risky. Metal amplified tracking spells.
“Give it up, Bella.”
“I’ll never give anything up to you.” She continued her march.
He missed a step at the venom in her voice and watched her walk past him. His objective was to make that a lie. Right now he lived for it. He wanted her to give everything up to him. He wanted to fuck her luscious body from twilight to morn—every way she’d allow him—with no sounds issuing from her lips but sighs, moans, entreaties for more, and his name.
The phrase I love you wouldn’t go amiss either.
He picked up his pace
to catch up. “You don’t even know where you’re going so fast.”
“Anywhere far away from you is acceptable.”
“You wound me.” He fell into step beside her.
“I’d like to do more than just wound you.”
“You just saved my head, Bella. I don’t believe it, unless you mean something else,” he finished with a suggestive lilt to his voice.
She colored a little. With skin as fair as hers, it was easy to see even in the gentle glow of the streetlights. “I’m only coming with you because I have to.”
“Okay.” He shrugged one broad shoulder. “Like I said, I’ll take what I can get from you. Before we travel to the outreaches of Piefferburg, we need to visit a friend. I need the ingredients for a spell for magickal countermeasures.”
“What kind of countermeasures?”
“I need to block their tracking spell. Even now they’re figuring out where we are and coming after us. Is your magick strong enough to block a tracking spell?”
Bella hugged herself. “You know it’s not.”
“Then we need to make a stop first. Afterward we’ll find somewhere to sleep. It’s cold and we’re both exhausted.”
