“We won’t give him up—” Laddin said at the same moment.
Bitterroot squared his shoulders and raised his hands. The butterfly that had been dancing around his shoulder settled into his open palm. “You will die, and I will still have the child,” he said. But before he could do more, Yordan rushed forward. His big hands were raised palm out, and his bullhorn-like voice echoed in the clearing.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Let’s not go talking about dying, okay? We just finished with one demon, we don’t need to go making another.” He glanced over at Bruce. “No offense.”
Bruce didn’t even understand what the man was saying. He was too focused on finding a way out. How did they escape the fairy prince’s bargain?
Meanwhile, Nero came to stand shoulder to shoulder with Yordan as they looked at Bitterroot.
“What would it take to leave the child alone?” Nero asked. “What do you want instead—”
“There is no instead,” Bitterroot interrupted. “I need the child.” Then his voice took on a softer note. “He will be cherished and adored above even myself. You don’t know what a human child means in Fairyland.” He shook his head. “There is nothing else you can offer me.”
“I won’t—” Bruce argued, but Stratos cut him off.
“What about time?”
Everyone looked at her in confusion.
“You mean like visitation?” Yordan asked. “One weekend here, one weekend there?”
“I’m not giving up the rights to my child!” Bruce said.
“You already gave up your right to him when you ate the apple,” Bitterroot countered.
Which was true. But he never expected to make a baby. And certainly not this way.
Stratos held up her hand as she focused on Bitterroot. “Look, we’ve just finished the mother of all battles. We don’t even know if it worked. We don’t know yet if Earth has been saved.”
“It has,” Bitterroot said, twisting his head enough so that he could flick his gaze to where Feta stood with Erin on his shoulder. “You have healed the land? No more poison in the water or the soil?”
“Yes, Fairy Prince,” Feta said, worship in his tone.
“No, Fairy Prince,” Erin said, her voice equally awed.
“What?” Bitterroot snapped. “Why no?”
“I mean there is no poison.” She hopped on Feta’s shoulder as she looked at Bruce and Laddin. “Their love is very strong. We were able to heal everything.”
Bruce blew out a breath, and he wasn’t the only one. Earth was safe. Wisconsin was healed. That was very good. But it didn’t mean he was giving up Aaron.
“What I meant,” Stratos said clearly, “was that we’re still regrouping. Doesn’t magic take a while in all those fairy stories? Aurora’s curse didn’t kick in until her sixteenth birthday. Rumpelstiltskin didn’t show up in the delivery room. Give these guys some time before they have to think of giving up the baby. They’re not even dressed yet.”
Bitterroot folded his arms, his expression angry. “Do you think to find a way out by morning? You will not. The child will still be mine.”
“Maybe so,” Bing said. “But it is what humans do. We hold, we love, and we grieve. All these things take time.”
“Yeah,” Yordan added. “You’re immortal. What is one more day to you?”
“I am not immortal,” Bitterroot grumbled. “But I can be kind, though I do not think it will ease your pain.” He took a breath. “In the morning, then. At dawn.”
“At our tree!” Feta said with a bright voice. “We will host you at our tree!”
Bitterroot didn’t even acknowledge the pixie. Instead, he looked at Laddin and Bruce. “Agreed?”
Neither Bruce nor Laddin spoke. Bruce didn’t want to say yes to anything, but that was the problem, wasn’t it? He’d agreed before. And while he was thinking of making a run for it, the fairy bastard made it worse.
“You cannot outrun me,” he said with exaggerated patience. “Your power comes from me. So, do I take the child now? Or in the morning?”
