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“Wait—what?”

He strode toward the door, was already outside on the porch when her brain caught up and she ran after him.

“What about the rug? Do you still want me to bespell it?”

He halted, glanced at her over his shoulder. “No. I have no need of your services for a while.”

“Do you want the rug back?” she asked stupidly.

“Keep it.”

Again, her thoughts took a few seconds to come up to speed. “Wait…wait. You’re not canceling our deal, are you?” Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Dread curdled her stomach.

Arawn tilted his head. “Consider it…paused. I will not call on you to use your magic until after your babe is born. Then we will resume our cooperation.”

And with that, he left as he so often did—he changed into the shape of a huge black eagle and surged skyward.

Merle stood on the porch, clutching the damned rug, her mind a huge blank. It continued to be a bottomless void for several heartbeats, while her body was numb.

Then it hit her. Slammed into her like a tidal wave into a small vessel, flooded her until she drowned, drowned, drowned in joy so pure, so overwhelming, it spilled forth as tears.

Rhun found her on her knees on the porch, weeping into the rug.

Chapter 24

Basil entered the sacred realm of the oracle, his eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room. Moss covered the circular walls as it did the stairs outside leading up to the entrance. Tree roots had broken through the stone here and there, and were growing up and down the walls, forming a hauntingly beautiful yet natural pattern. In the middle of the gym-sized room loomed a dais built of multiple slabs of slate. On top of it towered the larger-than-life statue of a man with a stag’s head, complete with antlers. The imposing stone figure radiated the same mood as the intimidating portraits and statues Basil had seen in the only Catholic church he ever set foot in, back when he was a child.

He stopped at the feet of the dais and cast a look over his shoulder. “What now?”

Calâr dragged Isa with him into the temple. Her convulsions had finally subsided, leaving her limp and unconscious in that damned fae’s arms. Anger boiled in Basil’s very cells, and he gritted his teeth. He had no right to touch her.

Still holding the dagger to Isa’s throat, Calâr said, “Your blood is needed to wake the oracle. Cut your palms on the sharp edge of the stone there, ascend the dais, and lay both hands at the statue’s feet. Close your eyes and loudly say, Yar nîm cata’or.”

“What’s that mean?”

“My true name reveal.”

“And then?”

Calâr lifted the dagger off Isa’s throat and waved with it. “And then…the Nornûn will show your true name to you, and you should see it in your mind.”

And because of that fucking mirror spell he’d done earlier, Calâr would see his true name as well.

His thoughts raced and spun again with the desperate need to find a way out of this. Endanger the whole of Faerie for a chance to save Isa, or watch her die… Nausea swamped him at the vision of her lifeless body sinking to the ground. Never.

Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders and laid his hands on the serrated edge of the slate in front of him. He braced himself for the pain and slashed his palms open on the sharp slab. Son of a bitch. He steeled himself against the vicious sting shooting from his hands along all nerve endings in his body.

He’d just set one foot on the stair-like dais when Isa’s gasp caused him to freeze mid-step. He whirled around.

Her eyes fluttered open, and the glorious, luminous gray of her gaze locked onto him. “Basil…” She jerked in Calâr’s grasp. “Please, please don’t do this. I’m not worth it. My life is forfeit already. Don’t let him use me to manipulate you into—” Her sentence ended in a scream that curdled his blood.

He turned on Calâr. “Stop it! Don’t hurt her. I’m doing what you want, okay? Just stop it.”

Calâr frowned. “I’m not doing anything. She’s just—”

Isa’s convulsions were worse than any Basil had seen so far. Spittle frothed at her mouth, and she was shaking so hard Calâr had to lower the dagger so he wouldn’t accidentally slit her throat. The stone walls of the oracle rumbled, as if stirred in the deep. Her skin turned ashen, her chest rattled.

Instinctual premonition arrested his breath, spread tingling dizziness throughout his limbs. No. It couldn’t be…

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