Page 55 of The Blood Queen

I’d do it. But the moment I consider it, picture myself standing over the High Blade with a dagger in my hand, I know she’d just use her Red Cap controlling magic on me, make me turn that blade on myself. Or Alyth again.

No. It’s gotta be Alyth to get the blood from her.

And I hate it. “There’s no one else you trust to get her blood?”

Alyth’s dress swishes when she leans on that intricate door. “Who?”

“A glaistig,” I say, exasperation making a rare appearance. “A will-o’-the-wisp. Hell, a brownie. Any of the creatures who’d lay down their lives for you in a snap. Get one of them to sneak on up to the High Blade. They could do it. Only—” I hold up my hand, cutting off another argument before it can form beyond her scrunched brow and red face. “Only you won’t. ’Course you won’t. You’d never endanger anyone else like that. And I know that. I just gotta be selfish for half a second, Alyth, because I don’t want you being endangered. So just let me have this fantasy for one breath, then I’ll get on board.”

Rebuttal still burns in her eyes, but her lips twist. “Imagine a will-o’-the-wisp entrusted with this task. Get blood from the High Blade. It’d go off on seven different distractions, then bring us back an angry hornet just for a laugh.”

I snort. It catches in my throat.

But I don’t much feel like laughing suddenly. Don’t much feel like thinking about the damned High Blade or what we have to do.

My shoulders droop, and I start to suggest we find her father and the other princes, tell ’em what we discovered. But the ball’s still going.

We figured out how to save the world, and the fae court’s lost in their cups.

Eyes on Alyth, I chew the inside of my cheek. “Everyone’s drunk.”

She looks down the hall, back toward the ballroom. “Even worse now, likely.”

“So there’s no sense in approaching for help with this task right now.”

Alyth wilts. “We need to go. Who knows how close the High Blade could be to another portal by now? And we know how to stop her. Or a way to try at least. Something more definitive than we’ve ever had. The sooner we do this, the sooner it all ends.”

“You want to leave. Now. Flee in the night without a lick of help from the fae court.”

Alyth snorts. “What help could they provide? Wine and an extravagant party aren’t going to fix this problem.” She doesn’t meet my eyes, but I can see the truth in her posture. Yes, she wants to go now. Just dive straight into the path of danger, because that’s what she does. That’s who she is.

“We need their help, Alyth,” I say, firm. “They could get us weapons at the very least. Armor, protection. Maybe some of that salve that healed you before. The other fae, they can be on this side, waiting for us to return with the blood, ready to whisk us straight to the throne room. They can send soldiers with us to Scotland so we’re not wholly defenseless. They can help, and there’s no shame in accepting it.”

Her eyes finally meet mine. “How long do we give them to deliberate? Days? Weeks? Time means nothing to them, and we don’t have time. We can’t afford to wait around.”

I step closer to her, closer, until she straightens on the door to match me looming over her.

My hand lifts, pulls a bit of spiderweb out of her hair.

“It’s more or less night now for us,” I say. “Based on what we’ve done today, how the ball’s going. So we give them until tomorrow. One night, that’s all I’m asking. One night to see if we can plunge on ahead with support instead of just—just me. I’m not enough for you, and you know that. Not enough to keep you alive.”

She frowns. “I don’t expect that of you.”

“To protect you?” I touch her chin. Brush my thumb along the rounded edge of her jaw. “To fight for you? If not that, what do you expect of me?”

Silence hangs. From farther up the hall, music still plays, but its magic is dampened by the walls and distance. Laughter rings out.

“One night,” she echoes in lieu of response. “We’ll wait one night.”

I nod.

And suddenly my eyes land on her lips, pink and parted.

Her breathing hitches, her chest rising sharply, swelling the stiff bodice of her gown.

Heat fires straight down my spine.

“This one night,” I whisper, thumb still moving on her skin. I flick my eyes back up to hers. “Let it be mine.”