A resounding thud: the piano bench falling to the floor. He was standing, ready to run, without knowing where he was meant to run to. He would find him. Hehadto find him.
“Everil.” Nimai’s voice was hard with warning. “Control yourself.”
“Where is he?” Everil asked, the words frost licked and growled. “Where’s Bo?”
“How am I to know?” Nimai asked, hand cutting the air in a sharp, dismissive gesture. “I’m not in the habit of keeping tabs on all your little indiscretions. Now sit. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
The habit was there. Flinch. Apologize. Try to do better. Everil was a series of disappointments, and Nimai always knew best.
Regret. Despair. Surrender.
Everil growled.
“You’re in the habit of killing them. Whereishe?”
“And we had an agreement to keep that from happening. You were tobehave. Do you really want to be responsible for what will happen if you don’t? Again?”
Everil couldn’t tower the way Nimai did when he discarded his glamour. But he could stand, teeth bared and stallion shadowed, the way Nimai hated.
Despairdespairdespair.
“We agreed he wouldn’t be harmed.” He wanted to grab Nimai by the neck and shake the truth from him. He wanted to cringe and apologize. His words came out pleading. “He’s hurt. Someone is hurting him.”
“And you’re so sure it isn’t you?” There was a coiling purr to Nimai’s words. A near gentleness to the way he took Everil’s arm. “My wild horse, as I recall, you didn’t part from him on the best of terms. And now he’s forced to endure a bond to someone he loathes, with all the pain that entails. No wonder he’s unhappy. The kindest action you could take is breaking it. Then he’ll be free, and you can move on. Haven’t you tormented poor Oberon enough?”
“Don’t use that name.” The words were soft. Quiet.
“Pardon?” The overwhelming taste of cinnamon and clove.
“Bo. His name is Bo.” Still quiet. Difficult to speak at all, with Nimai so close.
It was always his fault; that was true. This, too, might be his fault.
“I’m not going to debate with you over the name of one of your filthy little toys. Really, Everil, it’s disgusting what you get up to.”
“Summer yields to his Holly King.”Bo’s words had been a benediction. And Faerie itself had exalted in their union.
Everil jerked his arm from Nimai’s grip, taking a step back. “He may well loathe me. He has that right. But he’shurt, and I’m going to him.”
Nimai laughed, and the sound was warm and comfortable as a roaring fire. “Are you now? And how do you intend to do that? It’s not as if Kesk will open his territory to you.”
Kesk. Bo was still with Kesk and Veroni.
“You swore to return him unharmed.”
“And he will be. The man’s proving unusually stubborn. Clinging to memories he’s best freed from. But if he’s as upset as you seem to believe, I suspect the problem has resolved itself.”
Surrender.
Everil gathered his power around him, stepping past Nimai. If he had to issue a challenge, kill the Monarchs’ heirs with all that meant, he would.
“This is pathetic,” Nimai snapped. “You’re embarrassing me.Over what? Some foul-mouthed little human who allowed you to disgrace yourself with him?”
“Bo is my bond.” Oak and holly. Ropes of ivy and an altar thick with moss. “And my consort. You’re nothing but an oathbreaker.”
A berry fell from Everil’s hair. This one brilliant red. Dying leaves twisted into a fresh crown, sharp edges digging in. His blood was red, too.
The ground shifted beneath his feet, bleached wood giving way to white marble. Faerie, opening the way.
