The Unseelie have ruled for centuries now, almost a millennium. That the Seelie sometimes feel they are at a disadvantage, that they might want to come here instead… The only part of that which concerns me is the fact that they might come here, to this place I am duty-bound to protect.
“So things are getting worse?”
Spectra shrugs. “It would appear so. I do not truly know why, beyond that—it is all the fae will tell me.”
The king is dead… Will I explain it to Njáll later? He should not even know this much, truth be told.
“There is someone else we can visit,” I say, half to myself. “Maybe he will know more.”
“Perhaps,” Spectra says, inclining her head.
“Is there a chance…” I begin. I have a hunch, one that I don’t like at all because if I’m right, then we have far bigger problems than the fae king having died so long ago. “Is there a chance a high fae could have made it through the veil?”
Spectra eyes me for a moment. “You tell me,” she says finally, and I do not think she is lying—I do not think she knows. “Your Guardians would know, would they not?”
We make our way out of Shoreditch, traversing the crowds with no little trouble. Njáll does his best to stay close, but I know he is bursting at the seams with questions. I can’t blame him. I’m half thinking about what I want to tell him, what I can tell him—and half considering what I suspect, which is that a high fae might be up to no good.
It makes some sense, the more I think of it. I need to find out more about Sehild, see if I can get my hands on her if only to pay her back for trying to hurt Njáll at all, but also to discover if she had a purpose for being there beyond wanting to hurt the clan’s crai.
After all, that makes no sense. The fae in London clearly live in harmony with—or out of sight of—the vampires and wolves and witches. Why would she try to disturb that balance now? If she just wanted control, she would have been better throwing her lot in with Tamesis months ago; with enough fae on his side, he might have even survived.
“Are you going to explain anything to me?” Njáll asks once we’ve finally turned onto a dark, almost empty street. I checked the directions earlier and I know the next place is not far from here.
“It’s all quite complicated,” I mutter, distracted by trying to keep track of the number of streets we’re passing. I’ve never spent much time outside of Europe, and even here, I’veremained in older cities, but there’s something to be said about the city planning I’ve seen elsewhere.
At least I would be able to find my way around more easily.
“I’m sure it is,” Njáll says. He sighs. “I don’t need to know… anything you can’t tell me, just, am I in danger?”
“No,” I say sharply, and he frowns at me.
“Seems like it.”
“That’s what you have me for, isn’t it?” I gesture at what I thought would be a side street when I looked at the map. It’s really more like an alley, narrow and shadowed. “This way.”
Njáll growls, and I don’t think the sound is directed at me. “This does not seem like a safe way to go.”
“Stay alert then,” I reply, though secretly I agree. This fae, Cirro, is not a high fae, but Vlad warned me about him before. He’s powerful, and considering I did not get that warning about Spectra, I wonder what we’re getting ourselves into.
Halfway down the alley, I pause and look back.
It’s dark. Njáll’s breath catches when he realises. I can still see his outline, but I should be able to see the streetlights where we’ve just turned off.
“Stay close,” I murmur.
Maybe we should head back, but I’m not certain it will do much good. My fingers curl around the hilt of my knife. High fae can cast glamours over an entire area if they so please, and though part of me is surprised Vlad would not have noticed he was meeting with a high fae, perhaps he did not know at all.
“Do you have a weapon?”
“No,” Njáll breathes.
I resist the urge to give him an incredulous look. It will be wasted, anyway; I doubt he can see me that well. “How do you fight?”
“I usually don’t have to.” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Otherwise, I have my fangs.”
I shiver, then shake my head. I need to focus. Maybe this is how this fae greets everyone, but I doubt it—Vlad would have warned me ahead of time, were that the case.
A sound ahead has me tilting my head to one side. Njáll stops when I do. Fuck.
