knee, but I can make out enough of her face to know she’s a stranger. Heavy-lidded eyes skim over me as an amused smile curves full lips.
“Well, well,” she says, and with a jolt, I realize she’s not a complete stranger. It’s the female voice I heard carrying from the dining room two nights ago—the woman from Tristan’s cadre.
She stalks a few steps closer with predatory grace, her lips pulling back to reveal her gleaming teeth. “Where do you think you’re going so far from your master, little human runaway?”
28
Sylas
The tincture I drip onto the root end of Talia’s hair shows no reaction whatsoever—not a hiss or a gleam or even a wobble. I lean back in my chair with a growl of frustration.
There’s magic in her somewhere—there has to be. So why does the source and nature of it elude every attempt I make to understand it?
Humans aren’t meant to possess magic at all, and I’ve seen no indication that she’s anything other than human besides the effect of her blood during the full moon. Whatever causes it, it must be with her at all other times as well. If Aerik discovered some spell that would bring out that power in any human’s blood on command, he wouldn’t have needed this particular human so badly.
My sense of the waxing moon beyond the keep weighs on me. It’s merely days now before the full moon is on us again. I may find a few other tactics to use, but those will be last-ditch efforts rather than anything I believe has a solid chance of unraveling this mystery.
At some point, sooner rather than later, I’m going to have to accept that I won’t unravel this mystery before the wildness takes us again. I’ve let myself hold off on making any broader decisions while hoping my tests would reveal answers that would guide me, but that hardly seems likely now.
None of my possible solutions will let my conscience rest easy. If I offer Talia to the arch-lords as the solution to our curse, I betray a woman I’ve come to care about more deeply than I’d willingly admit even to my cadre—a woman who’s earned that affection with the strength and generosity she shows at every turn. By handing her over, I might fracture my cadre as well, knowing how August feels about her.
Even forcing her to give up her blood to myself and my pack would be betraying the trust she’s put in me, and I doubt word could fail to reach Aerik that somehow only my pack resisted the wildness during the first full moon after his treasure was stolen. As soon as he’s aware we stole her, we’ll have a battle on our hands, one that could ravage those who’ve stood by me and depend on me.
And if I require nothing of Talia at all, I betray all those folk—I fail the pack I’ve sworn to serve and shield in every way I can. They deserve my loyalty above all others.
Will I run more of my tests and grasp at straws for weeks longer until some misstep gives us away after all, and instead of being celebrated, we’re reviled for withholding the “cure” from the rest of our Seelie brethren?
No, there are no good answers at all. And I have seen the consequences that can come when I fail to tackle an uncomfortable situation head on. My pack has paid for my reluctance once before in spades.
That acknowledgment provokes a resolve that stabs through me as brutal as a blunt dagger, but I can’t avoid the realization as much as it pains me. I must bring Talia to the arch-lords. For my pack, for my people, I cannot let my selfish desires undermine my responsibilities to those I rule over.
There’s no more time for dallying. If I’m going to make proper arrangements to ensure the transition will be as safe as possible, to fulfill my promises to her as well as I can, I need to begin now. I can still do some right by her, even if not as much as I’d wish to.
With a heavy heart, I stand up and head into the hall.
She deserves to know my decision. She deserves to be heard, to be given a chance to speak, even if I can’t imagine what she could say that would sway the balance. She’s surprised me more than once before, after all. I’ll tell her she has a few days to prepare to leave and