Ding dong. The wicked tree is dead.
Now I was the gate to the other fae realms. Whether anyone realized it yet was up in the air. I could transport people over before the tree had decided to go all supervillain on me, but I’d absorbed even more of its power.
No fae had been brave enough to approach me yet. Especially not with the new and handy burn-things-to-an-unrecognizable-crisp power I’d discovered once the tree was forced to spit me out.
Things had been suspiciously quiet for months now, and even Caelan was getting antsy.
The Lords hadn’t moved against us, and they’d stopped pressuring Caelan to “get me in line.” Laughable of them to think he ever could, though I was way more willing to play ball with Caelan than any of the other Lords.
Except Rowan.
Besides Caelan, he was my favorite.
But before my time in the tree, Rowan and Caelan were neck and neck for my favorite.
Now Caelan was far ahead of the pack. He’d changed. I’d changed.
We’d both stopped being neurotic overthinkers and possessive nutcases (ahem, Caelan) and realized we were better together.
I hesitated to claim things were good, really good, because that’s when the sky would open and rain holy mortal hell down upon us.
The house looming several feet away was a three-story monstrosity, complete with those old columns typical of a southern home by the front door. White and marble, they rose from the porch to the roof. Sometimes they gave a house character. Other times, as was the case with this house, all they did was add to the aloofness of the place.
This was no home. The landscaping was covered with a fine dusting of snow, but even underneath I could tell there were no well-loved plants here, only the builder’s landscaping. Whatever was cheap and easy to maintain, the builders had placed it and whoever bought the house never bothered to change anything.
No hanging baskets hung from hooks on the large porch. No rocking chairs or side tables or planters beckoned a welcome for guests. There wasn’t even a welcome mat, only a generic fiber mat to wipe your shoes.
This place was stark and bare. A pretty home when you took a critical look at its bones, but devoid of soul.
A perfect home for someone like Ethan.
Caelan had cautioned me against assuming Ethan was the Lord who lived here, but this house practically screamed his name. Devoid of personality, icy, and not a spot of color in sight…
Yup. That’s Ethan.
No one had moved for an hour, and I was freezing my tail off. With a whisper of wings, I flitted from the nest to the roof. I knew where Caelan was lying, but he was so well blended into the brush I couldn’t make him out. I hopped over the top of theroof and down the back to see what kind of patio the house had. It wasn’t common for a bird like me to be out during the winter, so I didn’t want to get caught, but most people wouldn’t think too much of a bird sighting.
If I were an actual fairy wren, I wouldn’t even be in this country.
When a quick peek over the side of the roof revealed lots of cozy places to hide, I took a chance and hopped onto the large smoker, quickly disguising myself behind a large grill glove.
Still no sign of movement.
A bad feeling was building in my gut. I poked my head up and looked through the gauzy curtains. Wealthy people rarely thought about the back view when it came to people looking in. They felt safe and secure in their bubbles. I could see into most of the downstairs area.
The living room was a large, open space, furnished with high-end, modern couches and what looked like a carved, solid-wood coffee table. A television was on, but the sound was off. Fresh flowers sat on the dining table, a mix of expensive peonies and dahlias dotted with the occasional white lily.
But that wasn’t the most interesting thing about the scene. As my eyes trailed over the living room and dining room, I blinked in stunned shock at the scene I spotted next.
Ethan sat in a chair in the kitchen. Unremarkable unless you counted the fact that he was tied and gagged. I took a step back and almost fell off the smoker.
Throwing out a wing to balance myself, I flitted closer, perching on the arm of the wicker patio couch. Ethan’s eyes were wide with horror, his feet planted firmly on the floor, but his body pushed back, as if he were trying to get away from whatever or whoever stood in front of him.
There was no way for me to get closer to see who it was without giving myself away.
I leapt off the couch and flew as fast as I could, my heart beating a hundred miles a minute as I searched for Caelan.
The wolf, seeing my frantic dash, rose high enough for me to spot him. I dove and shifted, crouching low to the ground.
