cheek. “It’s you. Remember when we talked about the danger your feral poses once you cross?”
I stare up at the thatch ceiling. “Not this again.”
He doggedly continues, “When you cross the border, your powers will be at full force.”
“I know.” I clap him on the shoulder. “That’s a good thing.”
“Generally speaking, yes, but—”
I sigh. I shouldn’t fault Gareth for his practicality and carefulness, and I don’t … mostly.
“The feral.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Look, you’ll cross that border and become the winter wind. Your feral will have more power than it’s ever known. You don’t think that will present a risk to Taylor?”
“I would never harm her.” I try to keep the ire from my tone. I fail.
“I know you wouldn’t.” He meets my eyes. “I know you better than anyone else. And I know you’d never force her or hurt her. But the feral fae isn’t something you can control. I didn’t even know they could be controlled until I saw how Delantis handled hers.”
I wave his concerns away. “I can handle myself and my feral.”
“But what if—”
“I must go to the winter realm, and I must take Taylor there.” I stab my fingers through my hair. “What would you have me do?”
“Don’t overreact, but I was thinking maybe it’s best to keep you separate when you cross.”
“I can’t go without her.”
“I know.” He moves to the side as a harried servant carries a platter full of food past us. “Look, how about I take Taylor through the crossing and continue with her toward Cold Comfort. You give us a head start. Let’s say until sunup tomorrow. Then, when you cross, she’ll be a safe distance away. You’ll burn off some of the power while you’re playing catch-up. By the time you reach Taylor, you’ll be back to an even keel.” He hitches up one shoulder. “What do you think?”
The feral rages inside me, demanding I drag Gareth outside and beat the Spires out of him for even suggesting such a thing. But I try to think about it through his eyes. And, more than that, I try to see it through Taylor’s. If Gareth’s fears are correct and the feral takes over, she could well be in danger. As much as it stings to think I would be a threat to her, it’s not worth testing the theory, not when Taylor could get hurt.
“Fine.”
Gareth’s dark eyebrows almost hit his hairline. “Really?”
“Yes.” The feral howls in disagreement. “It’s probably for the best, and there’s no one I trust more to watch over my mate.”
“I will guard her with my life.” His gaze turns even more serious.
“I know you will.” I lock forearms with him. “Thank you for your wise counsel, old friend.”
“You realize I’m going to tell the rest of the Phalanx you called me wise, right?” The side of his lips quirk up in a smirk.
“I expect nothing less.” I release him and return to the dining room where Taylor and Beth are engaged in a heated discussion over which is worse, the Red Plains or Byrn Varyndr.
“—don’t have fae that dress like overdone chandeliers.” Beth points her fork at Taylor. “So I’m saying that’s a point for the Red Plains.”
“Sure, but Byrn Varyndr had, ummm, pretty flowers.”
“Weak.” Beth waves her hand in the air and makes a pffft sound.
“You’re right.” Taylor throws her hands up. “Byrn Varyndr sucks ass.”
Beth whistles and raises her cup. “I’ll drink to that.”
Taylor toasts with her and downs the rest of her water. The table is almost cleared of food.
Beth pats her stomach. “Best meal I’ve had in … ever? I guess?”
“If you’ve had your fill, then it’s time to cross the border.” Gareth looks down his nose at Beth, who gives him a saccharine smile in return.
“To the cold, desolate wasteland we go.” Beth stands.
Gareth grunts his displeasure. “Bad-tempered changeling.”
Taylor rises and nods, seemingly to herself.
“You all right?” I take her elbow.
“I think so.” She smooths her dress down. “I mean, this is what we’ve been waiting for, right? Your realm. And then …”
“Home.” I tilt her chin up. “Your home.”
She quirks her lips. “I know you mean your home.”
“My home is with you.” I take her hand and lead her out of the inn.
Cenet and Para stand next to their horse, Cenet’s look and tone urgent as Para crosses her arms over her chest. A lover’s quarrel, no doubt.
“Members of my Phalanx await us just over the border. Thorn should have supplies—everything you’ll need. Gareth will keep