Page 108 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

He punched Lachlan so hard that he flew backward. But Lachlan did not stay down—he pushed up with his sword, ice stabbing up from the earth at Kerne. Owls descended, screeching, all beaks and talons. Lachlan stumbled in the mists. Red-eared white hounds formed in the clouds, but they hovered as if confused. Spears glinted; hooves shook the clouds, thundering. Riders watched them from above, eyes glowing.

“Pippa, run.”

Kerne laughed softly. “There’s nowhere she can go that my hounds won’t find her. She broke her oath.”

“I did not,” Pippa objected.

“You sent the Redcap,” Lachlan realized. “You tried to pull her through.”

“But I never actually went through the ring,” Pippa said.

“You went far enough,” Kerne said. “A contingency plan, you see. You belong to the Hunt. You belong to me.”

“She belongs to me,” Lachlan snarled. He swung his sword, frost crawling up the blade. Kerne ducked out of the way, but not before ice seared his shoulder. The storm building in the sky turned everything silver and purple. The winds whipped down.

Lachlan was fighting both the mists and Kerne, but Kerne was still bleeding. Pippa sent her fire to bite at him. An owl dove for his head, scratching at his eyes. The winds plucked at the bird, tossing it off course. Flurries of snow clung to everything.

Light flashed in the ring and the Grendel burst through, fur singed. It roared, backhanding Kerne and taking him by surprise. He stumbled.

Right into Lachlan’s sword.

“If you want sacrifice, offer yourself,” Lachlan bit out. “Want blood so much? Bleed for it yourself.”

Kerne fell to his knees, staring down at his blood, virulently red when the rest of him was etched in the silvers and grays of mists and clouds. Lightning hit the ground next to him with a deafening crack. He smiled sadly. “A fair bargain in the end, I suppose.”

He pressed his bloody palm to the grass. Lightning flashed again. The ground shook. Lachlan staggered and fell.

“Too late now,” Kerne said. “The spell is cast. Our people will be strong again.”

“You won’t be here to see it,” Lachlan said, coughing.

“No, I don’t suppose I will.” Kerne was lying on his side now, blood gleaming under him. The Grendel bared its teeth before lumbering away.

“I should like my wish now,” Pippa said. She met Lachlan’s mismatched eyes, violet and silver.

He tried to shake his head. “Don’t you dare,” he growled.

He fought against the devouring mists, against what he knew she was about to do. But she did not fight it. She finally felt it all: the relief, the gratitude. The strength.

“I wish that the curse on Lachlan and the Red Grimoire be reversed.”

Fae magic was instantaneous. It was feral and wild and unpredictable, but it held to a bargain. It respected wish magic. It especially respected the courage that it took to make a wish. If you carried it long enough, it got lighter. Magic responded, and sometimes it might even reach out to help.

Even if it never quite looked the way you thought it would.

Because Pippa’s first wish had already come true. She could control her fire now. Where that led her next, she had no idea. Back to the Library? It didn’t matter, not really. Not as long as Lachlan was with her. Not as long as they were together.

The mists dissipated, drifting into nothingness.

Lachlan lay still for a long, terrifying moment, eyes closed. There was blood on his hands, a bruise forming on his jaw. An owl gave a soft, mournful cry and landed next to him.

Lachlan opened his eyes.

Pippa breathed for the first time in minutes, hours. Days.

Lachlan rose to his feet. Fae magic snapped around him, shining like starlight. Owls filled the sky behind him, wheeling joyfully. Pippa threw herself at him and he caught her, burying his head into the crook of her neck, bared by her shorn hair. “You shouldn’t have wasted your wish on me, wisp. We are going to discuss this later,” he scolded her in that tone she loved so much.

She grinned, weary and happy. “Do you promise?”