Patrick still hadn’t fully wrapped his slow brain around the truth—that Gerard had pretended to be less than he was for so many years. That the gods had once again fucked with Patrick’s life in a way that hurt more than anything else in recent memory. Betrayal was always a cold, deep wound that took years to heal, and he wasn’t ready to bleed that deep again.
“Ethan won’t give up Órlaith for Patrick,” Gerard said.
“I made a bargain with Ethan through his emissary, but the Dominion Sect has failed to follow through. Perhaps I should offer you the same bargain in order to get what I want,” Medb said, her bloodred lips twitching into a smile as cold as winter’s kiss.
“You expect us to believe you’d keep your word?” Jono asked derisively. “Patrick’s life isn’t yours to use as a bargaining chip.”
“I think you will waste time you do not have searching for the Morrígan’s staff when I can give you what you want.” Medb raised her hand to touch Gerard’s face, but he leaned away from her. “For a price, of course. Our kind do nothing for free.”
“You took the staff?” Patrick asked slowly, not sure he believed her.
Fae spoke in half-truths one syllable removed from a lie. He couldn’t discount what Gerard had told him about the person who’d stolen it from the Repository though—the one who’d done it with fae magic. Patrick was beginning to think they hadn’t been human at all.
“The staff belongs to our war goddess. It never should have found its way into human hands.”
“And you think it’s better served in yours?” Gerard wanted to know. “It doesn’t belong to you, Medb.”
“I am willing to give it up for a price if you bring me the Summer Lady as Ethan should have.”
And there was the catch. A goddess’ ancient weapon in exchange for the life of an immortal—for what reason, Patrick didn’t know, he just knew it wasn’t good.
Patrick glanced at Gerard—Cú Chulainn—and wondered what he would do. They needed to find the Morrígan’s staff before Ethan did, but if the cost was Gerard’s fiancée, Patrick wasn’t sure Gerard could pay it.
Wade’s stomach growled loudly, the sound causing everyone to look at him. He made a face. “Everyone wants this staff, and all I want is some snacks.”
“Later,” Patrick muttered.
Medb returned her piercing attention to Gerard. “What will it be, Cú Chulainn? The staff you so desperately seek, or your Summer Lady?”
“The mission we were given applies to all of us. I’ll need Patrick and Wade to come back with me,” Gerard said after a long, fraught silence.
“My bargain does not include them.”
“You stole them because you thought Patrick would be leverage for you against Ethan. He isn’t. Patrick is worthless to you, and if you keep him here, you will have to deal with Persephone. She owns his soul debt. Not you.”
Medb’s dark eyes narrowed, the only hint of her annoyance Patrick could see. “She would not dare come to Tír na nÓg.”
“Odin’s ravens fly through our skies. They are always watching, no matter the realm. The All-Father holds alliances with the Greek gods and none with you. Odin will tell Persephone where Patrick is, and her wrath is worse than it ever has been since she lost Macaria.”
“Then it will be war, if that is what our cousins wish,” Medb hissed.
Gerard straightened up. “War is already here. You aid it with this bargain you offer. If you want me to bring you the Summer Lady in exchange for the Morrígan’s staff, I will need Patrick and his magic to help me locate Ethan.”
Medb studied him through narrowed eyes, Cairbre a silent presence beside her. Then her gaze shifted to Patrick, her attention a heavy thing. The pain in his arms abruptly eased, the sudden absence of it making him choke on a gasp. Patrick flexed his hands as the silver and onyx bracelets seemed to liquify back into their original form, splitting open on a seam that hadn’t been there before and falling to the floor. Startled, Wade let his hands go.
The binding peeled itself out of Patrick’s soul, falling away. The rush of his magic reconnecting to his mind made Patrick sway a little on his feet. Wade steadied him with a careful hand before kicking the bracelets far away from them. The wool of Patrick’s sweater rubbed painfully against the burns on his arms, but he forced himself to ignore the irritation.
“If you fail to bring me the Summer Lady by winter solstice, then the mage is forfeit,” Medb said.
“Like to see you try to take him,” Jono growled.
“Jono,” Sage warned.
Medb never looked away from Patrick. “Do we have an accord, Cú Chulainn? Your lover in exchange for the Morrígan’s staff and this one’s freedom?”
Part of Patrick didn’t want Gerard to say yes, because Órlaith didn’t deserve whatever Medb had planned for her. The rest of him was too angry to care.
“What about me?” Wade asked.
