“Fifteen years to come up with a better name and they circled back to the Ascension?” Rolling my eyes, I glance to the other room. Draven’s not there yet, though I’m betting they’re about to lure him in. “What exactly is your plan here? You going to prance in there as me, Morgan? Give him a lap dance and then assassinate him?”
“I won’t be doing it, but yes.” Morgan nods to a changeling girl with dark hair and pale skin. She summons the Moon Arcana, transforming into—
“That’s the bestmeyou have?” I laugh. Her hair is too silver, she’s too damn tall, and her legs are sticklike compared to mine.
“You didn’t fool me. She certainly won’t foolhim.” It’s the truth. “You saw his hands on me. You think he’ll suddenly forget what I feel like? Smell like? Taste like?Thisis the best plan you can come up with? Walk away.”
Everyone’s silent, and I take in the other changelings, and to my surprise a few are full druids. One draws his Devil Arcana. “We can go my way, lure him in with a figment.”
His illusion casting is pretty solid, his version of me far more believable than the blood-and-bone replica. But it’s not quite right either, and Morgan curses before turning to me, disgust written all over him. The feeling’s more than mutual.
“Then I guess you’re going in there.” He steps so close he’s nearly standing on my toes. “You bind him up with your magic that is now linked to mine.” He runs his finger along every card in my deck before sticking them back in my holster. They’re thoroughly tainted now.
“What are you even thinking? You’ll get everyone here killed, and yourself,” I hiss, trying to make him see sense. If not for his sake, then for the rest of the changelings here.
They don’t want justice. They want punishment. I can’t tell these idiots what Draven and I are planning, or his vision for both Arcadia and the mortal realms—not only would it break my pact, but they wouldn’t believe me. I try to appeal to their fury, recognizing it as my own when I first arrived. “I get it. I understand what the immortals have done to us. But this isn’t the way to fix things. This is going to make things a thousand times worse for mortals and changelings. You kill one of their royals? They will come down on your quaint rebellion like a boot on an anthill.”
“The Ascension is bigger than you realize. Overthrowing the immortal royals will create chaos and allow us a chance at ending their reign over us.” His breath is rancid against my face. “And we have a place to fall back to. One that will let us bring these changeling powers back over the Wall to help our families!”
I let loose a dark laugh.
“Then they’re a bunch of liars, as are you. Druids don’t Select anyone with someone to return to.” I scoff, grinning with as much spite as I can muster.
Morgan slaps me hard, staggering me into the wall.
I’m barely able to hold myself up, and he reaches for my throat, but I claw his hand away, scratching a gouge across his face. “You touch me again, and I’ll tear your gods damned eyes out.”
“You go in there and tie him down, or we kill all your little friends,” Morgan growls.
“You wouldn’t. They’re your friends, too.” But I don’t like the darkness in his eyes, the way he doesn’t even blink at the thought.
“No, they’re not. They’re just tools. Like you are. The Ascension came to free me. And we need a weapon ofvengeance, and tonight it’s going to be you.”
21Nightmares
The Moon card represents the blurred line between reality and illusion—like moonlight reflected on water, where a single stone can make the mirrored image waver. Our perception may be a deception.
THEY SHOVE MEinto Amaya’s room. Morgan moves back against the wall and the Devil Arcana begins to weave his magic around the space, until they’ve disappeared. The bedroom is as spare as it seemed the first time I visited, a few weeks ago for a study session. There are little pops of pink accessories, but for the most part it’s a black metal-framed bed, a desk, and a wardrobe.
Footsteps sound from the hallway and the next thing I know Draven’s passing by the room. I don’t make a sound, praying he’ll keep walking. But as if he’s magnetized to me, he backtracks, pawing the door open. He leans against it, eyeing me up.
“Does this mean we’re turning in early, love?”
The way his body is curled into the opening, mask forgotten, the length of him leaning so lazily against it has my body molten, linked to every primal movement of his. The moonlighthighlights his tight waist, those broad shoulders, the hollows of his cheekbones.
“Draven …” Gods, this would be so hot if I wasn’t terrified. I can’t do this. Not to him. His grin spreads like flame doused in oil as he drinks me in.
“I love the way you say my name.” He leans forward, as though I have him on a fucking string, but he manages to resist fully walking in. Morgan was right. I am the key to getting Draven. And I hate that in this moment. I want to scream at him to run, guilt eating me alive.
Okay, okay, think. Fuckingthink, Rune.
He’s hot. He wants me. But he’s also smart. Wickedly, deliciously cunning.
I can figure out how to tell him about the danger without saying a word.
I force a calm over my body, meeting his eye as I step back toward the bed.
He pushes off the doorjamb, hands in his pockets as he crosses the distance to me. I’m reminded just how tall he is, my tilted chin barely reaching his collarbone.
