“They hunt and experiment on my people,” Silas says, his voice deadly quiet.
“Yes, they do. But they also want the fey gone, and they have resources we need.” I lean forward slightly. “We need them, Silas. You know we do.”
His scowl deepens, and I can see the stubborn set to his shoulders that tells me rational arguments aren’t going to be enough. Silas has spent decades protecting supernatural beings from exactly this sort of government interference.He’s not going to be easily convinced to invite MI5 into his carefully guarded world.
Time for a different approach.
“I can sweeten the deal for you,” I say carefully. “I can teach you how to properly use your fey powers.”
Silas goes very still, his pale eyes narrowing to slits. “What fucking fey powers?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out by now. You know you’re far more powerful than any other shifter. The magic you command, the way other supernatural beings respond to you.” I study his face, watching for any sign of recognition. “You have fey blood in your veins, Silas Darkstar. Unseelie, to be precise.”
“Like fuck I do!”
But I can see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the pieces clicking together in ways he doesn’t want to acknowledge.
“Why do you think the dagger called to you?” I press gently. “It wanted you to open the portals and allow us to return. It recognised what you are.”
The mention of the dagger hits home. I can see it in the way Silas’s jaw tightens, the flash of something that might be pain or anger or old grief in his expression. The role the dagger played in his life is still a source of significant trauma.
“Where do you think your magic comes from?” I continue. “The burial mound, where your gifts were bestowed, was an old unseelie place, imbued with their power.”
Almost faster than I can track, Silas moves. One moment he’s sitting across from me, the next there’s awickedly sharp dagger pressed against my throat, his face inches from mine, dark eyes blazing with fury.
I hear Jack move, feel him preparing to intervene, and the gesture touches something deep in my chest. But this is delicate, and violence will only make things worse.
“Jack, it’s fine,” I say calmly, not taking my eyes off Silas.
Jack hovers, clearly anxious and uncertain, but he listens to me. He trusts my judgment even in this dangerous moment, and that trust is more precious than any alliance or political advantage.
Silas is glaring at me with a fury that could melt stone, but I can see past the anger to the hurt and fear underneath. I’ve struck at something fundamental, something he’s spent years trying to ignore or deny, or at the very least, forget entirely. Something I can relate to deeply and far too well.
“I give you my deepest apologies for mentioning that night,” I say quietly. “I know it’s a painful subject.”
He knows about my past, as much as I know about his. He would have done his research, I’ve no doubt about that. So I allow him to see in my eyes everything he needs to see. Let him see how we are very much kindred spirits.
My sincerity must reach him, because after a long, tense moment, he steps back and sheathes the dagger with sharp, angry movements.
He shakes his head as if trying to clear it, running his hands through his dark hair. “You think I’m going to betray my people for personal gain?”
I blink, taken aback by the question. Because yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking. It’s how politics works, how negotiations function. Everyone has a price, everyone can be bought with the right incentive. Personal power,knowledge, advantage. These are the currencies that drive most decisions.
The notion that someone would find such an offer abhorrent is genuinely foreign to me.
Silas must see something in my expression, because his smile turns rueful. “That’s how your people think, isn’t it? Fey boy, you have a lot to learn about this world.”
I look at him, then at Jack, who’s still watching our interaction with worried eyes. Then back at Silas, who’s regarding me with something that might be pity.
“I’m beginning to realise that,” I admit quietly.
“Good. That’s the first step.” Silas leans back in his chair, some of the dangerous tension leaving his posture. “You want to learn? Here’s lesson one. Not everyone operates on self-interest. Some people actually give a damn about others.”
“I would be grateful if you would teach me,” I say, and I mean it completely.
Silas raises an eyebrow. “That people aren’t always arseholes?” He sighs, glancing at Jack. “I’m the wrong person for that lesson. That’s your man there. The one who can show you what genuine goodness looks like.”
I follow his gaze to Jack, who smiles sheepishly when he realises we’re both looking at him. My heart does that ridiculous fluttering thing again, and I think, truer words have never been spoken.
