his reach. “Wouldn’t want to lose your regent status too soon, huh?”
Bháin touched my elbow, and a blast of ice-sharp pain shot up my arm. “We must hurry.”
“He’s right,” Rook agreed. “The longer you wait, the more time we give your enemies to prepare for your arrival. If an attempt is made on your life, it will happen when you cross realms.” Muscles bunched in his jaw. “Delaying your coronation will give you time to adjust, but you are at a greater risk in the mortal realm, where you are outside the protection of Faerie’s laws.” He appeared to debate what he said next. Those words came softly. “Seelie loyalists will stop at nothing to prevent your ascension.”
I wished them luck. “Then you better get started on all those goals you wanted to accomplish.”
A tic developed under his right eye. “Am I not allowed to worry about you?”
“Oh, I know you’ll worry.” I patted his cheek. “You’ll fret every day I’m not under your thumb for you to press when you need some other impossible task completed, but you don’t care about me.” His mouth opened. I slapped my hand over it and scowled. “Don’t go there, Rook. Just don’t, okay?”
Turning to Bháin, I gestured toward Mom. “Let’s do this. I want to go home.”
Chapter Thirty-One
As it turned out, leaving Faerie was even less fun than entering it had been. Mom wasn’t drunk, but Bháin’s reprogramming made her tipsy. He pumped her full of enough feel-good vibes she reached the tether convinced she was on an excursion in Chichen Itza to see the temple ruins. Bháin must have sent her cruising to Cozumel. That or her subconscious was hard at work explaining the jungle-like climate of Spring.
The way her eyes kept crossing as we trekked through Winter made me think that portion of the journey was a blur. She fussed when we put layers on her and complained when we took them off, but she kept rolling with the punches and never once lost the glassy stare making guilt simmer in my gut.
Ahead, the forest hunched over the remains of what resembled a stone arbor carved with detailed Celtic knot work. Thick pillars formed a neat circle while stout beams crisscrossed over their tops in a failed attempt at holding the encroaching forest at bay. The effect reminded me of wisteria back home. During the spring, it crept up trees and into houses, curling its tendrils into whatever the wind blew it against and claiming the space as its own. It was an invasive species in the south, a gorgeous pest with lush purple blossoms that hung like ripe grape clusters from elegant, verdant filigree vines.
I touched a curling green frond. “I didn’t notice how beautiful this was before.”
“You were too disoriented.” Rook’s wary gaze swept over the trees to the pillar then back to me. “We aren’t alone. Grab your mother, and I will do what I can to hold them off while you cross. When you reach the other side, go straight to the magistrates. They hear all the gossip in Faerie. They know by now what’s happened. They can help.”
“Okay.” After facing the High Court—twice—the magistrates seemed tame. “I can do that. This tether ties to the same spot as where we left, right? It will spit us out on conclave grounds?”
“There are surer routes in Winter and Autumn,” he admitted, “but none are safe for you now.”
“We should go.” Diode prowled a circle around Mother. “Say your goodbyes.”
Rook handed me the leather satchel Bháin had packed before we left Winter. It was filled with my newly acquired skins and some of Mom’s belongings. I strapped it on and looked up at him. “It’s been real.”
He tilted his head. “Real what?”
“Eye-opening.” I scuffed my feet, ready to go but having trouble leaving. “Do we hug or what?”
He eyed my knee. “You’ll understand if full-body contact with you makes me nervous.”
“Fair enough.” I waved at him while I backed toward Diode. “You’ll be in touch, I assume?”
Rook cleared the distance between us in two steps, hooked an arm behind my back and lifted me against him. His head dipped, those hungry eyes of his daring me to protest. “Sooner than you think.”
His mouth feathered over mine, his unexpectedly tender kiss dragging a soft moan past my lips. That sound of encouragement had his grip tightening, his hands molding me against him. His tongue slid between my lips, hot and wet and reverent in a way that set a