to retrieve the dagger.”
“How?”
“You’ll travel into the vault. I’ll be there to help you get out of the hotel with it.”
“And how am I supposed to pick up an iron dagger?”
“An Breitheamh is kept in a solid silver case spelled to protect me from the iron inside.”
“Protect you? You specifically?”
“The dagger is mine, so yes. But it’ll protect any fae against the iron.”
Rose leaned back in her chair, studying Fionn. She’d known that An Breitheamh had been stolen from him, but what wasn’t clear was why he wanted it back so badly, it was worth risking their anonymity, and maybe even their lives. “Why is it important?”
“Because it was the dagger I used to kill the fae prince when I was human and thus, it’s special. You’re the lock to the gate to Faerie. Your blood, your heart. An Breitheamh is the key. Whoever stabs you in the heart with it opens the gate.”
She sucked in a breath at this news.
Stealing the damn thing back was now pretty damn important.
“Now you understand my insistence on retrieving it.”
He was trying to save her.
Again.
“Fionn,” she whispered, “how do I pay you back for—”
“Don’t,” he cut her off impatiently. “You’ll retrieve An Breitheamh. You’ll save yourself.”
His tone made her spine stiffen. He was right. Fionn may have led her to the dagger but Rose would be the one to steal it. It belonged to Fionn, but she trusted once it was in his hands, he’d keep it safe.
Except …
“If this weapon can open a gate between worlds, how the hell did you let it get stolen in the first place? And by whom?”
Fionn reached for his coffee. As he raised the cup to his lips, he replied, “I’m feeling very judged right now.”
Despite their grave discussion, Rose’s lips trembled with the desire to laugh. She held it together, though.
“Ironic,” he muttered after a sip.
“Ironic how?”
“That’s what An Breitheamh means. It’s roughly translated to ‘the judge.’”
She snorted. “That’s what you called your iron dagger back in your warrior king days? It’s a little pretentious.”
Unamused, he glowered. “I didn’t name it,” he finally said. “My people did. The Fae Queen spelled it to keep it hidden.”
“How did you find it, then?”
“After searching for two centuries, I came across it by chance. I was swimming in the faerie pools by my estate and I’d dived deeper than normal. I felt it. Perhaps because it once belonged to me. It was buried beneath centuries of sediment. When I unearthed it, I returned with gloved hands to retrieve it and felt the electricity of magic humming from the blade. When I brought it home, my mistress couldn’t see the blade. So, I tested it on my staff, leaving the blade out in the kitchen. Every single person passed over the dagger.
“That’s when I realized it had been spelled to be hidden from the world.”
“Except from you.”
“Magic is strange. Although we have it at our command, we should never forget it has a will of its own. If it believes an object feels allegiance to someone, that object can never be spelled against them.”
Rose was confused. “How can an object feel anything?”
Fionn leaned forward in his seat, his voice low. “Everything is energy, Rose. Everything.”
She remained silent for several minutes. Minutes Fionn no doubt relished.
“Who stole it and how, if it’s hidden?”
He looked up from the table. “The spell faded. It was only meant to last until An Breitheamh was reclaimed. Within a day, it could be seen by everyone. Which is why a treacherous mistress came across the vault it was hidden within. It was stolen six weeks ago.”
There was that word again. Rose did not like the possibilities of its meaning. “By mistress, do you mean you’re married and have a woman on the side?”
“Marriage is a human contraption. And you’re putting the modern meaning to the word mistress. Mistress used to be just a common word for a woman you frequently bedded.”
“Bedded?” Rose’s lips twitched. “Fionn, if you want people to believe you’re only in your thirties, not your third millennia, you need to update the vocab.”
This time the blank expression slipped and he glared at her. “Fine. I frequently fucked her. Better?”
More than a gentle stab of jealousy unexpectedly pierced her. It was mixed with a not-so-surprising tingle at hearing Fionn use the word fucked in its most physical context. “Fine, she’s your fuck buddy. So …”
“Alice was my fuck buddy. When we met, she was human. Now she’s a vampire.”
“What happened?”
“There was a rumor