girl before she hit the floor, dragging her away from harm.
We have to run, Two said. While he’s distracted. While Three buys us time.
We can’t—
No. But we have to.
Somhairle winced, so close to Inis that it rocked her. Two was right, as much as it wasn’t what they’d wanted. Only six freed fae—seven, including the one Morien had further injured—and Three distracting Morien, keeping his hands busy long enough for them to run. How many were left to save? Too many. Inis rose, leaning against Somhairle to draw as much support from him as he drew from her.
This way. Two bounded off, herding the rescued fae children at the same time. Leave Shining Talon to the mouthy thief.
Breaking glass. Mirror shards falling all around. Three still growing and growing, lashing out at Morien with talons and sharpened feathers, shrieking as she fought.
Without a glance behind, Inis let Two lead them away. She did what she had to, and that was run.
83
Rags
Prince Shining Talon of Vengeance Drawn in Westward Strike—impossibly beautiful fae prince, Ever-Living pain in Rags’s ass, now otherwise known as Tal—needed to move.
But he was heavy as solid gold and stubborn as an ox, and Rags’s whole body was spent, throbbing, barely recovered from the shit Morien had just put it through. His hand especially. It might’ve turned to stone—swollen stiff with pain and useless from the sting of the mirrorglass needles, a sick dead color Rags liked to call “corpse in the summer.”
A giant silver owl was fighting a murderous, heartless sorcerer in front of Rags’s eyes. The rest of their group, along with the fae kids they’d set free, were doing the smart thing and getting their asses out of harm’s way. But Tal wouldn’t budge.
Rags dug his heels into the floor, dodged a fresh shower of shattered glass, wrapped his arms tighter around the big fae’s waist, and pulled.
Couldn’t make the idiot give an inch.
Rags swore, barely audible over the chaos caused by Three’s pounding wings. He pressed himself close to Tal, knew that not only would they lose Inis, Somhairle, and the others, but if Three kept at it, the whole chamber was going to collapse, killing the very fae Tal was determined to save.
“You’ve gotta move, Tal! We’ve gotta get out of here while we can!”
“I cannot leave my people.” Tal’s blood dripped onto Rags’s body, soaking through his shirt. It was cool, not warm. Rags shuddered. “I must save them.”
“Yeah, some other time, okay? They’ll understand. Quit thinking with your heart for a change and use your brain!”
“I—” Tal’s voice broke. Morien countered Three’s onslaught, managing to pierce her solid silver skin with a handful of mirror shards. She howled in fury and Morien nearly got one hand free, started to trace a new glyph, before Three smacked his fingers with a wildly flapping wing.
There was nothing else to be done. Rags had tried everything but the one thing he didn’t want to do, and this was what it had come to.
Fine. Let the dirtiest jobs fall to Rags. They were what he was best at.
“I command you,” Rags said.
He hated himself for it, but what else was new?
Wondered, regretful, if Tal would ever forgive him for saving his life.
The expression on Tal’s face was terrible. Like a blood red dawn sky, the sign of a storm coming.
“Is that your will?” Tal turned to look at Rags. The motion unnaturally, unbearably slow.
“Yes, damn it!” Rags tugged hard on Tal’s arm. His grip slipped from all the blood and he slid on more of the same, fell on his ass. It stung. “I command you to retreat.”
“Then,” Tal whispered, “I will obey.”
He held a hand over his heart. No place for him to kneel.
Saving him shouldn’t have felt this shitty. But as Tal turned and loped past him, heading for the far end of the tunnel, Rags couldn’t shake his misery at what he’d done.
Was it right? It had to be right.
“Come on!” He struggled to his feet and waved his arms at Three, hoping to grab her attention before Morien did her any further damage, beyond the eye she was already missing. None of them needed to lose more than they already had. “We’re leaving! Get going!”
Three raked Morien with her talons, bowling him over with a final beat of her furious wings. Without waiting to see what happened next, Rags stumbled and ran crookedly after Tal, trying not to think about what it meant that Tal hadn’t waited for him. Or about