Page 98 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

Grant shrugs. Best not to dwell on that, really; not until we’ve got back to Lark and Oisin.

He checks the corridor before ushering us out of the room. We pass Ronan’s old rooms and the flare of a ward makes me wrinkle my nose. It’s in tatters, which might explain why Aodhan was here.

“He attacked,” Ophelia murmurs. I glance at her, and she’s looking at me. Does she know I can’t pick apart their magics now? “Aodhan. He attacked Oisin.”

“Do you think he’s okay?”

She nods quickly. “Yeah. He is.”

I hope Lark is, too. I think he is, but I can’t trust that I’ll know if he isn’t. What if he’s died—if they just came from killing him—and I don’t know? The thought makes me breathless, and I hurry to catch up with Grant, who is making his way down the corridor.

Lark’s door is heavily warded. “I’ll go first,” Grant says.

“It will let me in,” I reply.

“Dante,” he growls. His magic is already snapping out, pressing against the wards. “I said I’d bring you back. I’m taking you back.”

So don’t get yourself killed now. I set my jaw but nod, and he slashes through the wards and reaches for the door. When he shoves it open, Oisin is only a foot away, and he stumbles back in surprise.

“Miss us?” Grant asks, smile far too wide for the occasion.

And far too wide when I get my first look at Lark. There’s no shimmer to his fae skin, dark grey smudges under each black eye. They widen when he sees me standing there, and he lets out a gasping breath I might liken to a sob.

When he pushes to his feet, he sways, and I make my way over to him without another thought. He’s in pain. The pulse of it is almost visible, even if magic is seeping away from me right now.

It’s seeping from him, too. That, I feel like I can see. I swing my gaze around to the bedroom, then back to him again.

“It’s draining you,” I say.

Behind us, Oisin, Grant, and Ophelia are speaking in low tones.

“It is draining you as well,” Lark replies. He takes my face in his hands. “I am so sorry. I should have never brought you here. The deal would have never reached you in your realm.”

“You weren’t going to convince me to stay behind.” There was one moment where I might have, but as soon as Sam couldn’t come here, we all knew what was going to happen. I sigh and lean into Lark’s touch. Whether a mage should come here or not, he’ll be here soon. I have no doubt about that.

“I do not know how to fix this,” Lark says. His thumb rubs over my cheekbone, gentle just beneath my eye. “I have condemned us both.”

“Maybe,” Grant pipes up behind us. Lark looks at him but doesn’t let go of my face, and I don’t want him to. I wrap my fingers around his forearms and hold on. Weak and pained as he is, he still feels sturdy beneath my grip.

“Maybe?” Oisin asks.

“Your fate wasn’t to wear a crown. It was to go to the human realm and find your mate.”

“We had worked that out,” Lark says dryly.

“So we need to leave. The witch wouldn’t let us get to the crossing point, but you’re both kings now. Surely, you can get in touch with the Guardians?”

Lark’s fingers tighten on my face. “I am uncertain how,” he admits. “Though we can try, of course. You could scry here before; there is no reason you cannot do it again.”

“That won’t work,” Ophelia says.

I untangle myself from Lark so I can look at her. The pain from before is gone, but I still feel lightheaded and tired. The crown pulses out of sight. I can feel it. “What will?”

“The bond needs to be broken.”

I look at Lark, alarmed. “What, between us?”

“No,” she says gently. “That one is… weak. Still there, but it’s been pushed aside. I-I think it’s the only reason you’re still alive.”