Ouch. Silas is a bitch. I should take notes, I could learn a thing or two and add them to my repertoire.
Llywelyn turns swiftly on his heels and disappears back into the mist without another word. Silas stares silently after him.
“The fey are clearly coming for me,” I state. I don’t know if Dyfri and Llywelyn are working independently, or if Tristan has sent them, but evidently, I’m not hard to find.
Silas doesn’t turn away from the fog. “Let them come.”
I growl in frustration. “Dude, it is you against a shit ton of fey. Give it up.”
Dark eyes turn towards me, absolutely resolute. “I have legions at my command. Not just the dead.”
I pointedly look around the empty graveyard. “I don’t see them?” This guy really has issues. Serious ones.
“I’m not abusing my position of power to fix my personal fuck-ups, unless there is no other choice,” Silas snaps.
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re saying you are king of the werewolves or something?”
“Something like that,” he huffs as he turns his attention back to the mist.
An icy shiver dances down my spine. Shit. Something about the way he said it makes me suddenly believe him. He is a crazy motherfucker, no doubt, but not about this. He really can launch a full scale war against the fey, if he wants to.
Silas tenses and my gaze flicks to the fog. At first, I can’t see a damn thing, then slowly three figures emerge. A fox, flanked by a raven and a wolf. They approach the gate confidently.
They stop right on the boundary. They shimmer and all of a sudden, the fox is Tristan, the raven is Dyfri, and the wolf is Selwyn. And they are all butt naked. And far more importantly, they have all come to save me.
My heart is skipping in joy at the sight of Tristan, but my mind has a smidge more sense. It is lovely to see him, of course it is, but that does not mean that any of this is going to end well.
“You can’t pass the boundary,” says Silas.
Tristan grins. His infuriating, cocksure grin. It is bloody well melting my heart, and that’s damn inconvenient.
“Oh, I can,” he says. “I have a vessel. There is more magic in my veins than you can dream of.”
He moves his hand in an intricate gesture, and a blast of heat fills the air. The ancient iron gates groan and shudder. They begin to glow orange and then red. I take several steps backwards.
As the iron melts into goo. The graves begin to shake. Oh fuck. That’s not melting metal that is doing that. That’s Silas raising the dead. There is about to be an army of zombies.
The three fey princes step through where the gates once stood. All the iron has sizzled down into the earth.
Silas faces them calmly.
Oh my god. This is a disaster. A pointless, stupid fucking mess. Assholes having a pissing contest for no reason at all.
My feet move as I regain control of my body. I jump in between the princes and Silas, and hold up a hand to each of them.
“Just fucking stop!” I yell. “Stop fighting over me! It’s stupid!”
I glare at everyone. Holy fucking stars. Look at that. It is working. They have stopped. Everyone is staring at me. The ground has fallen still. Nobody is making zombies or throwing magic around.
I take a deep breath and look right at Tristan, deep into his ruby eyes. He has to be able to see the truth of what I am about to say.
“Tristan, I love you.” I snatch another breath before I run out of courage. “I want to be with you, but I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Tristan opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him.
“No, wait, let me finish.”
He nods solemnly, and I continue. “Just leave, please. Silas doesn’t mean me any harm. I’m fine. Just leave, and I promise I will find my way back to you.”
