Page 100 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

I really do. The plants in Lark’s greenhouse are reaching for me, even though my magic is barely a drop at this point. I can feel the ancient energy of the pine forest we walked through to get here.

And that oak… When I turn my attention to it, it is all I can sense. It’s as old as Lark says, and deep and hungry and it might not let them go at all.

But it’s fae, too. It might let me make a deal.

Lark kisses me quickly, hand still tight around mine. “Very well,” he says when he pulls back. “We will go.”

Oisin shakes his head. “This is madness, Lark. Nothing will happen. And you—You both…” He looks distraught. Part of me is glad that Lark wouldn’t have been alone here, but I’m more excited at the prospect that he might not have to stay at all.

“You three go to the oak and wait for us,” I say. Grant is on his feet immediately; he doesn’t have a problem with this idea. “We’ll be with you in a minute. I want to check something first.”

Ophelia wants to argue, but she knows when I won’t be budged, so she ushers the others to their feet and out instead. Lark disappears into the bedroom to get his crown. When he steps out and sets it on his head, I wince.

“Does it look that terrible?”

“No.” I narrow my eyes and study him. “Well, it is a bit gaudy. But no. I can feel it.”

“You can?”

I nod. He comes closer and tugs me into his arms, then buries his face in my throat. “If this does not work…”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Dante.”

“We don’t even have a secure way out. And what if I get there and there’s nothing anyone can do? This crown has my magic, too, doesn’t it?”

Lark presses a kiss to my neck. “It is mostly the deal I was tricked into,” he says, “but yes. It is taking every scrap it can from me, and that includes what belongs to you.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. No changing the past. Let’s see what we can fix now. “Okay. Fine. Let’s go check on the other crown and then get this sorted out.”

He follows me agreeably enough, hesitating only when we reach the door that leads to the tombs. The castle is beginning to wake, and we’ll be lucky not to be seen when we leave, which I don’t think will be possible at all once we get down to the oak.

“You believe there is a third crown in here?” Lark says. He leads me through the dark tunnels and to the room we were in the other day. The cold stone faces of his parents stare sightlessly up at the ceiling.

“Yeah. You said fae fade.”

“We do. No bodies. They have returned to the magic of the realm. These are just memories.”

“And you never checked any of the other tombs?”

Lark shrugs one shoulder. “If I did, I do not remember it.”

That’s the other thing, too, though I think he has an inkling of it. “We think there’s some kind of memory spell in the veil.”

“The witch?” Lark huffs when I nod. “She tricked me when I gave her my magic. I did not ask for us both to die if I got my magic back and did not fulfil my fate.”

“Yeah, that seemed unlike you.”

Lark smiles. He turns his calculating gaze on the room. “The crown then?”

The faces unsettle me now. Still, I study them, searching for any hint that the crown might be down here. I’ve got to admit, it’s a bit of a stretch. I run my fingers over the wall. “I think it’s hidden in here,” I say. “I don’t know why. I just—”

“What is it?” Lark asks when I stop speaking.

I run my fingers over that same spot again. The stone feels different, but I can’t tell why without my magic.

“Can you…”